"Then let me tell you this; if you peach on me, I'll smash your head."
Tom Spicer removed one hand from the fish pole and, doubling his fist, shook it with energy at his companion.
"Smash away," replied Bobby, coolly. "I shall not go out of my way to tell tales; but if your mother or the master asks me the question, I shall not lie."
"Won't you?"
"No, I won't."
"I'll bet you will;" and Tom dropped his fish pole, and was on the point of jumping over to the rock occupied by Bobby, when the float of the former disappeared beneath the surface of the water.
"You've got a bite," coolly interposed Bobby, pointing to the line.
Tom snatched the pole, and with a violent twitch, pulled up a big pout; but his violence jerked the hook out of the fish's mouth, and he disappeared beneath the surface of the river.
"Just my luck!" muttered Tom.
"Keep cool, then."