"Same here," agreed Charley, happily, "and I guess, the captain is in the same fix."
In a few minutes their boats had drifted apart and put a bar to further conversation, but Walter grinned as there floated over the water Charley's voice singing all the songs he knew, and the captain's whistle going over and over the one and only tune he knew, "The Sailor's Hornpipe." Evidently things were coming well with them.
For himself, he labored steadily and happily on for every yard of net pulled aboard yielded up at least a dozen silvery captives. Time flew with flying footsteps and when, at last, he straightened up to get a drink of water from his jug, he was surprised to see a gray light stealing over the waters. Day was breaking and the night had passed away. He could see Charley and the captain, plainly. Charley's net was all aboard and he was helping the old sailor with his. Both their skiffs lay dangerously low in the water. He glanced down at his own boat. Her gunwales were nearly level with the water under the weight of the fish in her, and he had still a hundred yards of net to pick up.
CHAPTER XIV.
A CUNNING TRICK.
Walter had still some seventy-five yards of his net in the water, when Charley, having finished with the captain, ran the launch down alongside of him. "Throw part of your fish in here and then just pull the rest of your net aboard," he directed. "Don't stop to pick out the fish. I'll do that on the way home. We've got to hustle and get those fish over to Clearwater. It is getting late and it will only take a short time longer to spoil them. Some have been out of water nearly all night."
He and Walter changed places, and while Charley picked out the fish with nimble, skilful fingers, his chum started up the engine and headed the launch back for camp. The sun was well up when they reached it, and pausing only to empty the fish from the skiffs into the launch, the launch was headed across for Clearwater, leaving behind the three skiffs, and the captain to help Chris pull out the nets.
"I wish I could let you stay behind and rest up," Charley told his chum, "but I have to have someone to stay in the launch while I go up to the fish house," and he told his experience of the day before which up to now he had not had the opportunity to relate. Walter was indignant over the underhanded trick and was frankly puzzled by the account of Chris' ghost.
"It is certainly queer how we fall into difficulties in everything we undertake," he said. "Now, we have only been here a few days and already we are involved in a smuggling case, have had trouble with a gang of fishermen, and are tangled up in a ghost mystery. It does beat all how we always seem to get into trouble."