The steamboat was not expected till the afternoon, and during the early part of the day some of the boys went rowing, some to wander in the woods. Ralph and Ben joined a fishing-party going to the place from which they had been driven by the tide "on Liberty Day," as they laughingly called it.
"Do me the honour to use my rod, Ralph," said Joe. "I think you have seen it before."
Ralph pretended to be ignorant of his meaning. He admired the rod, but said, "No, Joe; I am going to cut one yonder that will do just as well for me."
"It is not; it is yours."
"Well, call it mine. I'm much obliged; but really now, I don't want to fish. I've had enough of that. I am going to search for bait, and keep the hooks supplied. Just give me one half the glory of catching the fish."
"All right. We'll make it a point to keep you busy, boy. Here, bait's wanted," cried Ralph, jointing the rod and untwisting the line. "I can't start with a bare hook."
"Hold on till I get started in the business. I haven't got in my supplies," answered Joe, leaning down over the side of the rocks and pulling off winkles that were fastened to it. "There now; go at it. Both hooks are baited, and more meat's ready. Who wants bait? Here are fine fat winkles to cover bare hooks."
"Bait mine."--"My hook is bare," was the constant cry, as the boys crowded around Joe, who patiently baited the hooks with the meat taken from the little shells, until his fingers were dyed purple.
"Well, you are a good-natured fellow, sitting here and doing this while we have the fun," exclaimed Ned, coming for the twentieth time to have his hook baited.
"That depends on how you look at it," was the philosophical answer. "I might say you are the good-natured fellows to catch my fish for me, while I sit here and smash shells in a lazy way. This is just as good fun as fishing when you like to do it."