Tug promptly back-heeled Chip and calmly sat on his head while that unfortunate helplessly thrashed on the ground and in smothered tones begged to be released.
“Think you can be respectful to your elders?” inquired Tug, holding his seat by pinning down both arms of his victim.
A smothered mumble was translated to mean assent, and Chip was released.
Tug proceeded to explain his idea. “You remember what Louis said to Billy the other day? Well, what’s the matter with us three hanging together to beat Hal at his own game? We all like fishin’, and there’s just as big fish in this little old lake as Hal has yanked out of it. If he can find ’em we can. We’ve been trustin’ too much to luck, same as the rest of the fellers do. My idea——”
Chip cleared his throat, and Tug turned to glare at his erstwhile victim. But that young gentleman looked so innocent as he inquired, “What’s your idea, Tug?” that the latter relaxed his belligerent attitude and resumed.
“My idea is that we read up about the different kinds of fish around here, their habits, what they eat, when they feed, the kind of bottom they like best and all that sort of thing. The big chief’s got a lot of books about fish, and he’ll be tickled silly to have us read ’em. Then we’ll pump Big Jim and Tom Mulligan, and do some real scoutin’—for fish instead of thieves. If Hal has anything on us then we’ll just naturally take off our hats to him and give him the high sign.”
“Bully!” cried Walter. “We’ve got just time before ‘taps’ to read up a little on small-mouth black bass, and we’ll get away at daybreak to-morrow mornin’ for our first scoutin’. I’ll go right up t’ the big chief’s and borrow the book. Tug, you go hunt up Louis and get permission for the three of us to take a canoe and leave before mess, and, Chip, you hustle over and bamboozle cookie into puttin’ up a lunch for us.”
The others agreed, and the three boys separated on their several errands. As they disappeared in the gathering dusk a rough unkempt figure crawled from behind the wood-pile and watched them, an ugly frown darkening his dirty but usually good-natured face.
“Yez think Oi’m a thafe, do yez?” he growled. “Oi don’t know what yez think Oi shtole, fer Oi didn’t get here in toime ter hear ut all, but if Oi iver get yez alone Oi’ll make yez chaw thim wurrds and shwaller thim. Oi’ll—Oi’ll——” He shook a grimy fist at the retreating figures. His eyes rested a moment on Walter’s square, sturdy figure and he seemed to hear again the quiet voice: “I’m not going to think him guilty ’til there’s some proof.”
Gradually his face softened. “Thot bye’s all roight. He’s sound timber, he is,” he muttered.