He and his son rowed up alongshore, the latter grinning derisively back at the chagrined crew.
“Hello, what luck?” bawled a voice, as the crew ruefully pulled in to land and proceeded to stow their catch in the car.
“Mighty bad luck, Captain Sam,” replied Joe Hinman, dolefully, to the figure on shore.
Little Tim, the first to jump from the bow of the boat, narrated their adventure with the squire. Captain Sam snorted.
“Ho, the shrewd old fox!” he exclaimed. “Why, he’s eaten enough short lobsters in the last two years to cost him a thousand dollars. Only trouble is, he’s eaten the proof. We can’t catch him on those. Wait till I see him, though, I’ll give him a piece of my mind about raking up laws that way.”
Perhaps the utterance about law, on Captain Sam’s part, refreshed his memory, however; for, the next moment, he burst into a roar of laughter.
“Oh, yes, it’s funny, I suppose,” said Little Tim; “but you don’t have to pay the fine.”
Captain Sam roared again.
“No, and you won’t, either, I reckon,” he laughed. “See here.”
He whispered something in Little Tim’s ear.