“Where are the fish that were on it?” demanded Jakie, angrily.
“They—well, I guess you didn’t have ’em fastened good!” replied our hero. “Anyhow, when I lifted ’em up they slipped off, and—well, they got away.”
“But what right did you have to lift ’em up?” screamed Jakie.
“I wanted to see whose they were.”
“They were mine, that’s whose they were, and I believe you let them go on purpose!” exclaimed the bully.
“No, I didn’t; honestly,” replied Tommy. “I just lifted ’em up, and they slipped off the string. It broke, and the end came untied.”
“Oh, it did, eh? Well, maybe that’s so, and maybe it isn’t. Anyhow, I’m going to take your fish to make things even, and we’ll see how you’ll like that!” And before Tommy could stop him, Jakie had scrambled down to the edge of the creek, and had grabbed up Tommy’s string of fish from the pool between the rocks.
“Huh! You’ve got some good-sized ones,” Jakie said, half admiringly. “’Most as good as mine were. Well, I’ll take ’em home. They’ll come in handy for supper.”
“They’re bigger than the fish you had!” cried Tommy, “and there’s more of ’em. You only had about three. Maybe it was my fault that your fish got away, but it was an accident. I’ll give you three of mine to make up for it, but don’t you dare take my whole string!”
“Ha! Don’t you say ‘dare’ to me!” commanded Jakie. “I’ll do as I please. Get out of my way!” he exclaimed, roughly, as he shoved Tommy to one side, and hurried up the bank, taking our hero’s string of fish with him.