“What is it? What, have you got under your arm?”
“See,” said Johnny, triumphantly; and lifting his jacket, he displayed, to Pat’s astonished gaze, the form of a duck.
“A duck!” cried Pat, with a shout. “Where did you get it?”
“H-s-s-s-s-h!” said Johnny, warningly. “I caught it.”
“Caught it?”
“Yes, with a fish-hook. I trailed the hook, baited with a bit of bread, and the duck bit—and here he is.”
“We’ll cook him!” cried Pat.
“That’s it; but we’d better get away where they won’t see us.”
“Sure nobody ‘ll see us here, at all, at all.”
“Won’t they?”