“It’s funny she didn’t invite us,” said Russ.
“She isn’t going to have any boys this time,” Rose explained. “But maybe she will next time, and then you can go.”
“Maybe next time we won’t want to!” answered Russ. “Anyhow, we’re going fishing now. Come on, Laddie!”
“All right,” agreed the other. “Fishing is more fun, anyhow, than parties.”
“Can I come fishing?” asked Mun Bun.
As Russ and Laddie promised to look after him, Mun Bun’s mother allowed the little fellow to go with the other two boys. There was a small stream, larger than the brook, about half a mile away across Farmer Joel’s fields, and toward that place Russ, Laddie, and Mun Bun went in the afternoon.
“Now be careful, Russ, that your brothers don’t fall in and don’t let them get fish hooks in their hands,” warned Mr. Bunker, for, to his delight, Mun Bun was allowed to fish with a real hook and not with a bent pin, with which he never had any luck. This was to be a real fishing party.
“I’ll take care of them,” promised Russ.
Away went the boys over the fields toward the little river, Russ merrily whistling. On a shady, grassy bank, under a big buttonwood tree, the boys sat down and cast their baited hooks into the deep water of an eddy, where, in the quiet pool, there were said to be large fish.
Presently the cork on the line attached to Russ’s pole began to bob up and down. Then it went under water.