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СКАЧАТЬ used down in Florida, when sharks were being fished for around the inlets.

      Every little while he would glance toward these lines, having arranged so that if a fish took hold, a little piece of white rag would be hoisted as a signal; very much on the order of that frequently used by pickerel fishermen, when watching a dozen or two holes cut through the ice, each with its separate line.

      The cooking progressed slowly. Josh said he was out of practice, but that when he got his hand in, all would be smooth sailing again.

      He had plenty of assistance, for every one but George and Buster hung around, ready to lend a hand; and after he had fixed his snares with the baited hooks at the end, even the fat boy was willing to do anything Josh asked.

      Finally the cook announced that everything was ready, and that they could draw up to the board. Of course this latter was only a figure of speech, for there was not a sign of a board around; the things were placed right on the ground, while the diners were expected to get their supplies on a tin platter, and in a tin cup; after which they were at liberty to squat like tailors, with their legs drawn up under them; or else retreat to the boats for more comfortable seats.

      “Talk to me about your banquets,” remarked Herb, as he started in on his rasher of steak and fried onions, “this beats anything that was ever invented. I wouldn’t change places with a king, right now.”

      “Them’s my sintimints!” echoed Jimmie, as well as a fellow could who had his mouth crammed full at the moment, so that he had to talk from one side.

      “Hurry up, George, or you’ll get left!” called Josh, noticing that the skipper of the speed boat had not come ashore.

      “Oh! I suppose I’ll just have to, but I’d rather be left to work here,” replied George, nervously, whereat the rest glanced at each other, and the looks thus exchanged seemed to say as plainly as anything: “Wonder now if he’s gone and done it, mixed things up with his cranky old engine, and don’t seem able to get it to working right again; that would be just like Fussy George!”

      It was more than pleasant to sit there, looking out upon the broad river and enjoying the feast that had been prepared as a starter to their camp life. The very wind that came sweeping across from the further shore, cool and delicious, seemed to be of a different brand to any that they enjoyed at home; so much do surroundings have to do with things.

      No one seemed in any particular hurry but George, who bolted his dinner, and was back again on his boat long before any of the others had finished.

      “Are we nearly half way there, do you think Jack?” asked Herb, who knew that the skipper of the Tramp kept track of all these things and had charts as well of the river.

      “We’ve come forty-five miles since starting, because, you see, the current is pretty strong; and for once we haven’t been held up by George’s cranky boat,” replied Jack, lowering his voice a little when saying this last, since there was no necessity for offending the chum whose little oddities gave them more or less fun during a cruise.

      “Then that would mean we’ve still got a good fifty to go,” suggested Buster.

      “Somebody get a leather medal for Buster here, our Lightning Calculator. Now, it would take me ever so long to figure that forty-five from ninety-five really leaves fifty; but just see how he grabs the answer right off the reel. It won’t be long before he has a little ‘Professor’ tacked to his name,” and Josh chuckled as though he had really said something smart.

      Buster did not seem to feel hurt; in fact, many of these little shafts just glanced from him as arrows might from the thick hide of a rhinoceros; which is not saying that Buster was impervious to ridicule, for that would be far from the truth, as he could be quite sensitive at times; but Josh he treated with supreme contempt whenever the latter tried to be funny at his expense.

      All this while Buster had tried to keep one eye on the places where his fishing lines were out. He fancied several times that he saw a white rag start to show, but before he could scramble to his feet, which was quite an effort for him, it was all over, and proved to be only a nibble, so that on each occasion he had to sink back again, and have patience.

      There were good fish in the old Mississippi, and he knew it, so why should he not have his share of the spoils? In his moments of leisure, while preparing his hooks and lines, no doubt Buster had pictured himself as hauling in some monster that would be the envy of all his camp-mates; and beside which he must have his picture taken, as positive proof that he was the successful angler.

      Jack knew that once they started they would be apt to make their destination in less than five hours; so that there was no need of haste. He had seen much of George’s hurrying, and what grievous results it often brought in its train, that somehow he felt more averse to making haste than ever.

      So he and Herb and Andy sat there, chatting, as they finished their dinner, with Buster squatting alongside like a great toad, waiting for that bite which did not seem to materialize very fast, and in a sort of hazy way listening to what was said by his three chums; Josh being busy with the cooking utensils, which he liked to keep as clean as sand and water could scour them, after the most approved camp methods known.

      All at once there was a heave on the part of Buster; who seemed to be actuated by some wild impulse, for he made frantic efforts to get up; but as he had been sitting on one of his legs, it had gone to “sleep,” so that even after the fat boy did succeed in gaining an erect position, he came very near falling over into the fire that was still smouldering.

      “Hi! what’s all this mean; got a fit, Pudding?” shouted the alarmed Josh, as he supported the swaying form of the other for just five seconds; when Buster broke loose, and went limping toward the river, uttering all sorts of vaporings, in his excitement.

      “Oh! it’s only a fish, after all,” grunted Josh, who had begun to believe that there was something tremendous the matter.

      But at any rate it meant a whole lot for Buster, who, scrambling aboard the Comfort made a bee line for the spot where he had fastened his stout cord. Sure enough the piece of white rag was fluttering from the top of the rudder post, having been pulled up there when the fish had seized the bait, and started away with it.

      Everybody just naturally stopped whatever they were doing at the time, to watch the fisherman. Even George poked his head up to see what all the row was about, and for the moment forgot his troubles with that cranky engine.

      Buster was giving little cries of mingled delight and wonder.

      “Wow! it’s sure a big one this time, boys! Takes your Uncle Nick to coax the dandies to take hold. Yes, I spit on my bait every time, and that’s the trick to fetch ’em. That’ll do, Josh, I’m running this circus, and I’d thank you not to butt in. Watch me land him now, boys! Say, ain’t this fun, though? Worth while coming fifty miles to see me do the great act. Wow!”

      “Look out, Bumpus, or he’ll pull you in!” called Jack; but evidently the warning meant in good earnest, fell on deaf ears. Bumpus was not going to be denied the pleasure of landing his own capture.

      They saw him unfasten the cord with trembling hands, hardly able to contain himself. Then he threw himself back in a noble attitude that made Josh compare him with “Ajax defying the lightning,” which every one has seen in marble.

      All at once Herb gave a shout that was echoed by others.

      “Whip the cord around the cleat again, Buster, quick!”

      Buster attempted to obey, realizing when it was too late that he had cut СКАЧАТЬ