“They take a bit of beating, don’t they?” said Jim. “That’s right, Wal, pull him up!” as Wally hauled in another fine fish. “We couldn’t carry more if we had ’em.”
“Then it’s a good thing my bait’s gone, too!” laughed Norah, winding up. “Haven’t we had a most lovely time!”
Jim produced a roll of canvas which turned out to be two sugar bags, and in these carefully bestowed the fish, sousing the whole thoroughly in the water. The boys gathered up the lines and tackle and “planted” the rods conveniently behind a log, “to be ready for next time,” they said.
“Well, we’ve had splendid sport, thanks to you, sir,” Jim said, turning to the Hermit, who stood looking on at the preparations, a benevolent person, “something between Father Christmas and Robinson Crusoe,” as Norah whispered to Harry. “We certainly wouldn’t have got on half as well if we’d stayed where we were.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the Hermit answered. “Yours is a good place—I’ve often caught plenty of fish there—only not to be relied on as this pool is. I’ve really never known this particular spot fail—the fish seem to live in it all the year round. However, I’m glad you’ve had decent luck—it’s not a bit jolly to go home empty-handed, I know. And now, what’s the next thing to be done? The afternoon’s getting on—don’t you think it’s time you came to pay me a visit at the camp?”
“Oh, yes, please!” Norah cried.
Jim hesitated.
“We’d like awfully to see your camp, if—if it’s not any bother to you,” he said.
“Not the least in the world,” the Hermit said. “Only I can’t offer you any refreshment. I’ve nothing but cold ’possum and tea, and the ’possum’s an acquired taste, I’m afraid. I’ve no milk for the tea, and no damper, either!”
“By George!” said Jim remorsefully. “Why, we ate all your damper at lunch!”