"No, that's only Rob Leslie's crew trying to fool us. They've tried it before this afternoon. They think it would be a joke to coax us out there to broil like themselves."
"Frank," shouted Mr. Murray, "come here, I want you."
Aside to Benjamin he said, "He's my nephew—a fine young chap. You'll like him, I know."
Braithwaite came over, and Mr. Murray put one hand on his shoulder and one on Benjamin's.
"Boys, I want you to know each other. Benjamin, this is Frank Braithwaite. Frank, this is Benjamin Selby, the high line of the gulf shore, as I told you."
While Mr. Murray was speaking, the two men looked steadily at each other. The few seconds seemed very long; when they had passed, Benjamin knew that the other man was his rival.
Braithwaite was the first to speak. He put out his hand with easy cordiality.
"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Selby," he said heartily, "although I am afraid I should feel very green in the presence of such a veteran fisherman as yourself."
His frank courtesy compelled some return. Benjamin took the proffered hand with restraint.
"I'm sorry there's no mackerel going this afternoon," continued the American. "I wanted to have a chance at them. I never saw mackerel caught before. I suppose I'll be very awkward at first."