“Oh, yes; ever so many times.”
“Father and Norah have great fishing excursions on their own,” said Jim. “They take a tent and camp out for two or three days with Billy as general flunkey. I don’t know how many whales they haven’t caught at this place. They know the Bend as well as any one.”
“Well, I guess we’d better take off the saddles and get to work,” said Norah, slipping off Bobs and patting his neck before undoing the girth. The boys followed her example and soon the saddles were safely stowed in the shade. Then Jim turned with a laugh.
“Well, we are duffers,” he said. “Can’t do a thing till Billy turns up. He’s got all the hooks and lines, all the bait, all the hobbles, all the everything!”
“Whew-w!” whistled the boys.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Norah said cheerfully. “There’s lots to do. We can hang up the ponies while we hunt for rods. You boys have got your strong knives, haven’t you?”
They had, and immediately scattered to work. The ponies having been tied securely under a grove of saplings, the search for rods began, and soon four long straight sticks were obtained with the necessary amount of “springiness.” Then they hunted for a suitable camping-ground, where lunch might be eaten without too much disturbance from flies and mosquitoes, and gathered a good supply of dry sticks for a fire.
“Billy ought to bless us, anyhow,” Jim grinned.
“Yes, oughtn’t he? Come along and see if he’s coming.” They ran out upon the plain, and cheerful exclamations immediately proclaimed the fact that Billy and the old packhorse had at length made their appearance in what Wally called the “offing.”
Billy soon clattered up to the little party, the hobbles and quart pot jingling cheerfully on old Polly’s back. He grinned amiably at the four merry faces awaiting him in the shade of a wattle tree.