“Why, somebody else has been fishing here!” he exclaimed as he saw two or three fish in a little pool of water. They were strung on a string, as were his own. “They’ve been fishing and they’ve forgotten to take ’em away,” he went on. “Nice big ones, too,” he said. “I wonder whose they are?”
He stooped over to examine the fish, lifting them from the water by the string. As he did so the cord suddenly broke, and, like flashes of silver, the beauties dropped into the water and swam away.
“Well, now I have done it!” exclaimed Tommy. “If the fellow who owns these fish comes along, I’m in——”
“Here! What are you doing there?” suddenly asked a rough voice, and, looking behind him, Tommy saw Jakie Norton, standing and looking at him with anger in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” repeated Jakie.
“Fishing, of course,” answered Tommy, shortly, for he did not like the way in which the bully talked to him.
“Fishing, eh? And in my place, too. Now you get out of here!”
“I didn’t know this was your special place,” replied Tommy, sturdily, “and I don’t think you’ve got any more rights here than I have. Anyhow, I’m done fishing, so I’m going.”
“What have you got there?” suddenly asked Jakie, catching sight of the string in Tommy’s hand—the string that was now empty of fish. “What are you doing with my string?” demanded the bully.
“Is—is this your string?” asked Tommy, and he did not know what to say next. “I—I found it here,” he went on slowly, “and I—er——”