"Right across there, almost in a straight line. We'll run it, next week, in Ham's yacht. Splendid weak-fishing, right in the mouth of that inlet, on the ocean side."
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Ford. "I'm in for that. Is the bay deep?"
"Not very," replied Dabney, "but it gets pretty rough sometimes."
Ford was getting red in the face, just then, with his unaccustomed exercise, and his friend added:
"You needn't pull so hard. We're almost there. Hullo! if there isn't Dick Lee in his dry-goods box! That boat'll drown him, some day, and his dad, too. But just see him pull in crabs!"
Ford came near "catching" one more as he tried to turn around for the look proposed, exclaiming:
"Dab, let's get to work as quick as we can. They might go away."
"Might fly?"
"No; but don't they go and come?"
"Well, you go and drop the grapnel over the bows, and we'll see 'em come in pretty quick."