"I guess they are all in the nets now," Walter at last announced. "Let's pick them up."
Charley rowed back to the end of his net in silence. He grinned with grim humor as his quick ear caught queer grunting sounds from along the lines of net. He seized the end of his and pulled it aboard, then he paused, adjusted his lantern carefully, took a drink of water from his jug, laid his short club handy on the seat beside him, and settled himself for a long spell of hard work.
Walter reached for the end of his net, tingling with anticipation. The first few yards came in empty, then a score of white bellies showed in the dripping webbing as he hoisted it into the boat. Pride gave way to dismay. Instead of the clean, glistening mullet he had expected, these were slimy, flat-headed fish, loathsome to look at, emitting repulsive grunts and reeking forth a sickening odor. Each was hopelessly tangled in a mess of webbing. For a moment, he wildly debated the notion of casting the net back overboard and fleeing. Then he grimly, doggedly, settled down to work. His thoughts were more unpleasant than the task before him. He had brought this upon himself and not only upon himself but upon his companions also. Because he had become a little tired, he had given way to a fit of temper and made a fool of himself. Well, Charley and the captain would never want him to fish with them again, and it served him right, but his heart ached at the thought of separating from those kind, true, friendly companions after all the years they had spent together. He paused for a moment and listened. From the captain's skiff came muttered exclamations as the old sailor labored over his unwelcome catch. From Charley's boat came only the sharp, frequent crack of the club as he hauled the detested fish in over the stern.
Slowly the minutes lengthened into hours and the night dragged away, while the humbled lad, suffering in every muscle, his fingers bleeding from a score of scratches, and one hand swelling rapidly where a horn had entered, worked grimly on. Slowly Charley's light drew away from him for the other lad's experience had taught him the knack of taking out fish swiftly.
Once, Walter raised his eyes from his task and looked about. The morning star had risen in the east and Charley's light had disappeared. "Got disgusted and gone home," he decided, bitterly. "Well, I don't blame him."
The day was just breaking when Walter, at last, reached the end of his net. The captain had escaped lightly and had been through for some time. He was stretched out on a seat, resting, and placidly smoking his pipe. The launch was only a short distance away. Charley had rowed back and was bringing her up to save his chums the long row to her.
"Good morning," Charley hailed, cheerfully, as he shut off the engine, "all through."
Walter almost shouted with joy. His chum was not angry with him after all.
Charley ranged alongside and peeped into his skiff.
"What have you saved them all for," he exclaimed, as his eye lighted on the big pile of fish.