Alex paid no attention to this advice, but kept his hold on the line. He took time, however, to wrinkle a freckled nose at his tormentor. He seized the rowboat by the prow, and drew himself up.
“I always take a bath in the morning,” he said, “it’s good for the health.”
“Do you always employ a fish to pull you in?” asked Jule. “I should think you’d run shy of fish!” “See! He never got off the hook!” exclaimed Alex. “Didn’t I explain to you that this was a pet fish? I’ll have him giving a song and dance in a second.”
“I hope the song and dance will be given in the frying pan!” contributed Case, speaking from the deck of the Rambler. “I’m hungry enough to eat stones out of the river.”
“Just you wait a second and I’ll have this one simmering in the frying pan!” Alex said, getting a better hold on the line by winding it around his wrist. “Wonder what kind of fish this is? He’s a corker for weight, anyway.”
When the “fish” was at last brought to the surface it proved to be a long and vexatious snag!
“Hi!” laughed Case, from the Rambler’s deck, “how do you work it when you want to exercise that fish? Pet of yours, eh?”
Alex scratched his head and joined in the laugh.
“Anyway,” he declared, “if there’s a fish in the Rio Grande I’ll introduce him to you! We’ve got to have that fish breakfast!”
By this time Rube and Buck, having inspected the Esmeralda and discovered that the injury to the prow was not as serious as at first supposed, had joined the surgeon and Case on the deck of the Rambler. The two boats were now tied together, so that the prow of the Esmeralda ran flush with the aft deck of the Rambler.