Luncheon that day was eaten to the accompaniment of various conjectures as to whether there were enough different kinds of fish in the bay to count twenty-five for a coup; to say nothing of fifty kinds for a Grand Coup in Woodcraft.
“Fred, you won the fish coup, didn’t you?” asked Paul.
“Yes, I had it awarded last year,” replied Fred. “But all the fish I have been introduced to in this bay were not enough to complete the required number. I had to draw on some fresh water kinds to help me out.”
“O pshaw! Then I don’t see how Dud and I can get the coup this summer,” grumbled Paul.
“You’re one ahead of the number I started with, anyway. You have that mola and no one ever knows what a trawl may bring forth,” comforted Fred.
The following morning the baiting of the trawl took a long time and the boys thought a good day’s work was done when they had finished helping the Captain and Mr. Remington. Each herring was cut into pieces and furnished enough bait for three or four hooks.
They set the trawl out in the bay starting off at Flat Island. The Captain’s dexterous flipping of the trawl-line was the despairing admiration of the four boys and he did not catch or tangle the long line once!
“Say, but that’s swell work!” exclaimed Paul.
“I should say so—some class to Captain Ed!” added Dudley.
Mr. Remington and the Captain laughed but, indeed, the performance was a wonderful feat. The half-mile trawl with its five hundred dependent hooks had been coiled in a tub with all the baited hooks in the inside of the coil.