Then they turned their thoughts to other subjects, because, as Jack wisely said, while this escapade on the part of Moses may have been a great event in his life, it was only an episode with them.
“How shall we spend today?” Jack asked.
“Well, since you want to know my opinion,” spoke up Toby, briskly, “I’ve got my mouth made up for another mess of those fine and frisky Paradise River bass; and I’d like a whole lot to have one of you fellows go over with me.”
“How about you, Steve?” queried Jack, turning to the partner of his previous day’s long trip.
“Reckon I’d be wise to lay off a spell, because, to tell you the truth that heel did give me a mite of bother, especially on the return trip. You go with Toby, Jack, and take your camera along. He says there are some dandy things you might want to snap off between here and the river. And in case either of you hook a four-pound bass you can get a picture of the fight that will be worth seeing, as well as of the beauty after he’s landed. I mean to get over there later and try my luck, don’t forget, Toby, so leave a few in the river, please.”
So it was settled. Jack somehow did not seem disposed to take that long tramp on two successive days, though doubtless he had certain plans arranged in his mind which could be carried out 102 later on. With nearly two weeks still ahead of them it was needless to hurry matters. “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” he often told the more impatient Toby, when the other was showing signs of fretting because things failed to move quite as rapidly as he wished.
“Just leave the things for me to look after,” said Steve, as they arose after finishing breakfast. “I’ve thought up a few jobs I’d like to tackle while you’re away. And I’ll also agree to see that old Moses doesn’t cut up any more of his capers. Have a bully good time, boys. When do you expect to get back, Jack?”
“By noon, so far as I know now,” he was told. “We ought to have all the fish we can use by then, if they bite at all; and the fishing is never worth much from eleven to three. I’ll be able to snatch off any pictures I’d care to take in addition; so look for us by twelve, Steve.”
“I’ll have lunch ready then, remember that, Toby,” called out the campkeeper, as the pair started to the tent to get their fishing outfits and the camera.
Toby having been over the route took it upon himself to act as guide to the expedition. Indeed, a tyro could have found the way, for in going and coming they had left quite a plain trail, easily followed.