Part 13 (1/2)
Much obliged to you, sir,” he continued.
”Don't mention it,” replied the man of the yellow oilskins. ”Quite a drizzle; isn't it?”
”Regular Scotch mist!” chuckled Walter, in exaggerated Highland accents.
”I suppose we can get to Riverhead by turning around, following the left sh.o.r.e here until we come to the place where Batter Creek runs into the Chelton, and then go up the river?” suggested Jack, as he slowly slid the window shut.
”That's right,” returned the fisherman. ”But don't go up this creek any further, or you'll run aground in a swamp.”
”Thanks,” called Jack. ”Oh, I say, are you going or coming?”
”What do you mean?”
”I mean have you been fis.h.i.+ng, or are you just going?”
”Just going. They always bite pretty well for me in a rain.”
”Oh. I thought maybe if you had any we'd buy 'em.”
”Sorry, but I haven't anything but s.h.i.+ners for bait. I'm going down to the deep water.”
”What in the world did you want to buy fish for, Jack?” asked his sister as he closed the window, and the yellow figure splashed away.
”To eat,” was his answer. ”We've got to have supper; haven't we?”
”But can't we go on to Riverhead, and then to the bungalow?” asked Bess.
”Hardly,” declared Jack. ”It isn't so late, of course. But this rain is going to keep up, if I'm any judge, and though we might manage to reach Riverhead, we certainly couldn't undertake a ride over the mountain trail in an open buckboard in this downpour.”
”But what are we going to do?” cried Hazel, opening her eyes wide. She seemed in much distress.
”Do? Why, stay right here, my dear,” said Jack. ”That is, if you will allow that poetic license-because 'dear' rhymes with 'here.'”
”Oh,” murmured Hazel, blus.h.i.+ng. ”Stay here?”
”We have remained on board over night,” Cora remarked. ”But we'll be a bit crowded,” and she glanced appraisingly at Jack and his chums.
”Don't worry about us, Sis,” he hastened to a.s.sure her. ”We can bunk anywhere, or sit up. I don't feel sleepy anyhow.”
”But we've got to eat,” said Walter. ”Too bad that chap didn't have any fish. We could have fried them on the gasoline stove.” The _Corbelbes_ was fitted up with a little galley, the girls often having stayed on board for days at a time.
”Maybe we can catch some ourselves,” suggested Paul.
”No outfit or bait,” remarked Jack.
”A bent pin and a piece of string?” suggested Paul, but not with any degree of enthusiasm.
”Well, we've got to do something,” Cora declared. She had again set the engine in motion, but it was running only fast enough to overcome the sluggish current in the creek.