"Gracious! boys, hold on," he said, in an excited whisper. "I've got a ten-pounder."
It was not half of that, nor had Charley got his fish; but the paddles were quickly and quietly shipped. Charley pulled in a nice trout, and Bud Rose another.
"Ain't they beauties!"
"We're right in a school of 'em," said Bud, rebaiting his hook. "I say, fellows, ain't this a long chalk better'n fire-works?"
For no matter how many times a country boy may have been a-fishing, nor how many fish he may have caught, the sport must always be exciting.
An exclamation of alarm from one of their number, as Bud finished speaking, startled the boys; and they were a good deal more startled, and not a little provoked, to see Charley catch up one of the heavy paddles and plunge it into the water with a long sweeping stroke, the impetus of which sent the scow forward a dozen feet.
"Now look here!"
"Boys," cried Charley, flushed and anxious in a minute, "we may have the fire-works yet. See there!"
Around a bend in the stream a thin blue line of smoke was seen curling up through the trees, and even as the boys gazed, it appeared to increase in volume and density.
"The Indians must have left it!" exclaimed Charley, hurriedly. "Boys—"