Dick came to first and hazarded a guess. “The ladies–God bless ’em–they’ve been to town and bought out a market.”
“Nonsense, there isn’t a fish market in the burg–men sometimes peddle fish round at the houses, but they never get out here. They’ve been fishing on their own hook.”
Dick turned on Chicken Little, who was watching them demurely. “If you don’t tell us how you worked this I’ll—” He advanced threateningly.
“Fished,” she replied laconically. And neither coaxing nor threats extracted any further information from the ladies that evening.
234After supper Marian remarked carelessly: “Frank, there are more fish than we can use, don’t you think it would be nice to send some over to the Captain?”
But it was Marian herself who finally let the cat out of the bag the following morning just before Alice and Dick left. The train would not leave until evening, but they were all going in to make a tour of the Indian remains and to do some shopping. Frank was driving for the guests and Marian; the youngsters were with the Captain. Marian reached down under the seat to push a satchel out of the way of her feet, and to her surprise, came in painful contact with a fish hook. She pulled up a bunch of line and several hooks.
“Oh, I wondered what became of our lines,” she said carelessly. “Wing must have put them in for us.”
She looked up to find both Dick and Frank regarding her with interest and Alice looking reproachful.
“Methinks,” remarked Dick, gazing at the heavens thoughtfully, “I see a great light.”
“I knew they’d let it out,” Frank replied meanly. “Women are clever, but a secret is too many for them every time.”