"Never fished with one before," said Frank. "I'll soon get the hang of it."
That was a capital school for it, at all events; and they learned that it might be a good thing for a little lake like that to have a bad reputation.
"Fished out years ago. I understand now," said Dab.
"Understand what?"
"Why, those fellows in the village that sent me out here were playing a joke on us,—a good deal like one of Joe and Fuz Hart's."
"Best kind of a joke. But if we tell about it when we get home, the whole village'll be over here next week."
"Then we won't tell. Hurrah! I'll get him in. Steady, now. If he isn't a two-pounder! see him run? Boys, this is going to be fun."
They did not neglect their minnow-catching; and before a great while they were varying their bait, very much to their advantage. How they did wish for a boat, so they could try the deeper water! They worked their way along, from point to point, looking for the best spot, if such there were; and Dabney at last found himself quite a distance ahead of his companions.
"Boys! Ford! Frank! A boat! Come on!"
Lying behind the trunk of a tree that had fallen into the water,—not much of a boat, to be sure, and without any oars or even rowlocks; but when the water was tipped out of it, and it was shoved in again, it actually floated.