“Why, shoot the fish!”
The old man cackled sarcastically.
“You heard of it, hey? Well, I’ve heard of a willyloo bird, too, but I never seen any. But go right ahead. Have yore fun.”
“Just to show you it can be done, I will!” Teddy declared, and strode resolutely to the water’s edge. “What would you like, trout or pickerel?”
“Chocolate.” Bug Eye responded, with a grin. “Let ’er ride, Teddy.”
The boy peered keenly down at the stream. The others grouped themselves eagerly around Teddy, while the sun, almost at the horizon, threw a cloth of gold upon the water.
Suddenly Teddy saw a silver flash about five feet out. He brought the gun to his shoulder and took careful aim.
Crack!
“Get him?” Pop asked excitedly, forgetting his former declaration of unbelief.
“Wait a minute,” Teddy grinned. “Give me time. There—what’s that?”