“We may get him yet,” said Walter. “I’m not willing to let those fish of mine go unavenged. Perhaps we can get some guns from Joel and round this old fellow up. It certainly would do me a lot of good to have his skin for a rug.”
“He may have his own ideas about that,” replied Bess. “You’d better let well enough alone.”
“I see we’re not the only ones on the lake,” remarked Cora, pointing to a small boat about a mile away.
“Some fellow out fishing in a rowboat,” pronounced Jack, after a moment’s examination. “Let’s go down that way and see what luck he’s having.”
“He doesn’t seem to be fishing,” observed Belle, as the Water Sprite turned in the direction of the rowboat. “In fact, he seems trying to attract our attention. There, he’s waving at us. Let’s hurry. Perhaps he’s in trouble.”
Jack sent the Water Sprite flying at full speed, and the distance between the boats rapidly narrowed.
“Upon my word!” cried Belle, “I believe it’s Mr. Morley.”
“So it is,” acquiesced Cora.
“I don’t see any oars in his boat,” said Paul.
“Looks as though he were adrift,” remarked Walter.