But before them was spread as lovely a stretch of water, with its green and rocky islands, as ever a motor boat cruiser could wish to see. And none of the boys believed on that glorious July morning that they could wish for anything finer than fortune seemed to be placing at their feet.
[CHAPTER VII—JOSH SCENTS TROUBLE]
“What luck, Jack?”
It was just a week later. The three motor boats were anchored in a little cove near one of the numerous rocky islands that give this part of the wide St. Lawrence river its great reputation for summer outings.
Herb was leaning over the side of his boat, engaged in rubbing some dingy part of the brass railing; and Jack at the time happened to be approaching, seated in a little dinky or tender, which each larger boat now trailed behind every time they made a move from one anchorage to another; and which proved so useful in going ashore, fishing or visiting.
“Oh! pretty fair,” replied the one who handled the short oars, as he turned in his seat to reach for something that lay in the bow of the skiff. “We can have a fish dinner tonight, anyway.”
Then he held up a monster muskalonge, that must have weighed all of twenty pounds.
“Great Jupiter, what a sock-dollager!” cried George, who was taking it easy in his boat; while Nick thrust up his head to shout:
“Bully for you, Jack! Now we won’t starve to death! The country is saved!”
“Well, I like that,” said Herb. “To hear him talk you’d think I’d cut him down to one meal a day, when to tell the truth he——”