“Better send up and invite young Joe down,” said Henry Burns, paying little attention to the new arrivals. “Jack and I are going into the tent, to eat supper with Tom and Bob.”
“All right,” said young Tim. “It may be your only chance, though, to eat one of these this summer.” Henry Burns glanced up from his work at the string of six mackerel which Tim proudly displayed. Then he flung down his broom and ran to the companionway.
“Jack, come out here,” he cried. “They’ve got some mackerel. They’ve come at last.”
Harvey emerged hurriedly from the cabin, and gave a whoop of exultation when he saw the fish.
“We want to go down first thing in the morning,” said Joe Hinman, “before any of the other boats get out. There’ll be money in the first catch, if we have any luck.”
“We won’t wait till morning,” said Henry Burns, decidedly. “We’ll start to-night, and be on the grounds first thing. I’ll get Tom and Bob out. You fellows get your lines ready and we’ll go and catch some bait right off.”
Henry Burns, while not of excitable temperament, had a way of doing things sharply and promptly when occasion demanded. He went below and presently gave a signal of three short toots on the fish-horn, in the direction of the camp. Bob was alongside next moment, in the canoe.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Get ready for a trip down the bay,” replied Henry Burns. “We’re off to-night, just as soon as we get the bait. The mackerel are in. Tim’s found them at last.”
Tim showed the crew’s catch.