"Mackerel in the bay," announced Mr Buckley, pointing to a shimmering light on the surface of the water, about half way across to Beware Head.
"I wish we had some rag worm for bait," said Jim Sayers. "There are two lines in the boat, but without bait they might just as well not be there."
"Don't say that," rejoined the Scoutmaster, laughing. "Let me have a look at the lines. Ah! they're properly hooked. Sayers, I see an old tin can under the bow thwart. Give it a rub on the leather of your oar and pass it to me."
The Tenderfoot did as Mr Buckley suggested. With a pair of pocket scissors the Scoutmaster cut three spoon-shaped pieces from the now glittering tin, curved them with his fingers and attached the metal to the line just in front of the three-barbed hooks.
"Well I never!" ejaculated Sayers. "To think that fish make a meal out of a chunk of tin."
The lines were paid out, the metal discs jumping erratically under the resistance of the water.
Three minutes later, Sayers felt a sharp tug on his line.
"A fish!" he exclaimed excitedly.
"Haul it slowly and carefully or you'll lose it," cautioned Mr Buckley. "Yes, Sayers, you've hooked a beauty."
Wildly struggling, a fair-sized mackerel was landed into the boat, its gills impaled by two barbed hooks. After that the sport was fast and furious, and before the boats were abreast of Beware Head eleven fish were lying on the bottom boards of the "Otters'" boat, and nine fell to the lot of the "Wolves."