FLY FISHING FOR BASS
They were certainly a tired lot, all right.
For once, at least, the rising sun caught the three boys fast asleep. Indeed, it was fully two hours afterward before any one came creeping out of the tent. Then it turned out to be Amos, wishing to build a fire so they could get a pot of coffee and some bacon ready for breakfast.
No one seemed anxious to stir far that morning.
“And it isn’t that we need fear meeting up with those two hard cases, either,” said Teddy, when the subject was laughingly referred to by Dolph. “Fact is, we all of us feel pretty well done up, and satisfied to just lie around and rest.”
“One thing,” remarked Dolph, “I mean to do if I feel a little more chipper this afternoon.”
“I can guess it,” laughed Teddy, jerking his thumb toward the near-by lake, “why they’ve been breaking water all morning, just jumping out to see what ails the crowd. To think of the outfit for bass fishing you’ve got along with you lying idle, when here they are at your tent door, crazy to grab your flies.”
“Hold on!” exclaimed Dolph, “that settles it. I thought I might make a try, but now I know it.”
And ten minutes later Teddy chuckled to see him jointing his rod, and arranging what he believed might be an all-round taking cast of bass flies, consisting of a Parmachene Belle, a Montreal and a Red Ibis.
Teddy smacked his lips and as Amos looked up he remarked: