“Yes; he won’t lie still and be killed sometimes,” said Will laughing. “Ah! well, perhaps we sha’n’t catch any at all.”
“Oh, yes! we shall, and gashly big uns too. Hadn’t we better leave young Arthur behind—’tother won’t be feared?”
“No; it’s too late now,” said Will. “Here they are;” for just then the brothers came along the pier, and after Arthur had stepped in rather a dignified way down into the boat, Dick leaped in and insisted upon taking an oar.
The boat was pushed off at once, and while Will and Dick were rowing Josh had to answer Arthur Temple’s questions.
“Are those the lines?” he said, gazing at them curiously.
“Yes, sir; and we’ve got some oilskin aprons for you to put on, so as you sha’n’t get wet.”
“Aprons!” cried Arthur aghast.
“Yes, sir; they be good uns too.”
“I shall not put on an apron,” was upon Arthur’s lips, but he did not say it; and just then his attention was taken by a short thick truncheon, with a curious notch or fork at the handle end.
“What’s that for?”