“And we never even got the confounded things!” lamented Tom again. “And we might just as well have, too, because we’ll have to go up and pay for them, of course, when Mr. Overalls has calmed down enough not to bite us on sight. They may be worth a thousand dollars apiece, for all we know. We were the pedigreed geese, I think!”
“Never mind,” said Louise soothingly, “be glad Father Goose didn’t get you, instead of sorry you didn’t get his pets. They probably would have been tough, anyway.”
“And we can fish,” suggested Winona. “Nobody’s going to jump out of the river and tell us that these are his pedigreed perch.”
“The game-warden may, if the river’s been stocked lately,” said Billy.
“It hasn’t,” asserted Tom. “Don’t you remember? We found out all about that before any of us came up here last year. All these fish are old enough to die. Pass me the bait, please, Winnie.”
“Here you are,” said Winona.
She baited a line for herself, dropped it in, and everyone else did the same thing. After that nobody said anything for quite a little while, unless an occasional “Confound those geese!” from Tom could count as conversation.
“Got something!” announced Louise at length, jerking in her line.
“What is it?” asked Tom with interest.
“Feels like a perch—or a trout,” said Louise pulling in her line rapidly.