The fire was blazing finely, and the two young discoverers found their appetites all they could ask for. They even discussed the propriety of cooking a trout or so, but decided that it would be better to catch some fish for themselves. There were plenty of promising places along shore, but the results astonished them.
"Mort," said Quill, at the end of ten minutes, "did you ever know fish to bite this way?"
"Never. Got another. Here he comes—perch. What's yours?"
"Hurrah! it's a pickerel."
Not a very heavy one, but in he came, and the excitement of that next hour of Pawg Lake fishing made it seem a wonderfully short one.
"Quill," said Mort, "there he comes."
"I knew he'd bring the boat back."
"Of course he would."
There he was in a few minutes more, smiling as ever, and remarking, "Come along, boys; you are both wanted at Ararat."