“It is that,” mumbled John, who was as busy as any of his comrades. “It pays for it all, now.”
“Of course it pays,” laughed Fred. “That’s what we’re here for. Honest, Grant, who caught that big pickerel?”
“I did,” responded Grant proudly. “I cannot tell a lie, I caught it with my little hook and line.”
“I’ll ask the captain about that later. I saw some other boats up there where you were and I am going to ask them how much they charged for the fish they sold you.”
“They didn’t sell us any fish!” retorted George indignantly.
“Another boy that cannot tell a lie. No wonder they call you the papa of your country. What do we do this afternoon?”
“I’m going to take you to another place,” explained the captain, who throughout the meal had been busied in attending to the numerous wants of the boys.
“Shall we get more fish than we did this morning?”
“That depends,” said the captain solemnly. “Some people do and some don’t. It mostly depends on whether they are any good with the rod.”
“Don’t you think we’re good?” demanded Fred.