NOW that there was hope of learning more about Billy Blue-eyes, the young campers found it hard to wait patiently for possible tidings from Pittsburg. They were all restless and excited; Laddie in particular could settle down to nothing.
"We'll all go fishing," declared Mr. Black. "That'll keep Billy's mind off his troubles. Dave says he knows a trail that will lead us to the finest fishing spot in the country; so we'll take a lunch and stay all day."
"Laddie," queried Mrs. Crane, anxiously, "are you strong enough for such a long trip?"
"Sure," asserted her fidgety patient, "I could pull in a whale."
"Then," declared Mrs. Crane, "I'll get Mahjigeezigoqua to wash the dishes and make the beds, and I'll go, too. I don't care if I do get rheumatism—I haven't been fishing for years. And that young woman loves to do things for us."
"No wonder," said Jean, "after all you did for Rosa Marie last winter."
"Put on your very oldest shoes," ordered Mr. Black. "You're to wade the river—Dave says it's shallow all the way down, except in a few spots where we can follow a trail along the bank. He's cutting poles for everybody."
For perhaps half an hour, sure-footed Dave, carrying the lunch in a bag on his back, led the fishing party through thickets that Mr. Black had supposed impenetrable, to come out at last on the river bank. It was their own many-curved river, but so wildly beautiful at this seldom visited spot that even quiet Mrs. Crane exclaimed loudly. Then, their hooks baited, they waded into the shallow, winding stream, and fished.
"Go down dose stream," commanded Dave. "Bam-bye she's take you back to Pete's Patch."
"Here, Bettie," said Mr. Black, "I'll show you how to cast your hook—Phew! Here's a fish for you already—must have been ready for breakfast!"
Sure enough, a wriggling, silvery trout dangled from Mr. Black's pole.
"There's something running away with my line," complained inexperienced Jean, a little frightened by this uncanny sensation. "It feels as big as a rabbit!"
"Pull it in," commanded Mr. Black, "you've got a bite."
So she had, but the fish that had felt "as big as a rabbit" proved so tiny that Mr. Black put him back to grow; and the apparently unconcerned little trout made a dart for Marjory's hook. He seemed so determined to be caught by somebody—it didn't matter who—that Dave dug a little pool in the sand for him.
"Stay dere," ordered Dave, "till dose beeg brodder of you ees have som' chance for got caught."
"I don't think I want to fish," said tender-hearted Jean. "I'd rather look. Every time I take a step I see a new picture—I'd like to keep all my eyes for the scenery."
"So would I," declared Bettie, pulling in her line. "Let's just dawdle along together somewhere out of reach of Mabel's hook—Goodness! Look at Henrietta putting on her own bait!"
"I did it, too," bragged Marjory. "I couldn't wait for Dave—it's such fun to see a trout dart out from under the bank and grab your worm and run away with it."
"You must give a little jerk," instructed Mr. Black. "Just like that."
"Just like this," added Mabel. But Mabel's fish proved to be a log, so amid much laughter, Dave provided her with a fresh hook.
For several wonderful hours, the happy castaways waded and fished. Never in all their wanderings had they encountered anything as beautiful as the overhanging trees, the fern-fringed banks, the softly gurgling water. And never had fish seemed more willing to bite. Even Dave was surprised at their voracity. In spite of Mrs. Crane's heavy floundering, in spite of the number of times that Mabel slipped from slimy stones to land "kersplash" on her sturdy back, in spite of the delighted shrieks that came from Marjory and Henrietta at every bite, the hungry fish flocked to the feast of angleworms.
SEATED ON THE DRY END WAS A STOUT, PLACID MAN
"Dose worms she's taste lak' pie to dose feesh," explained Dave.
"I'd like it better," grumbled Mabel, whose hook was continually catching in the trees, "if there wasn't so much underbrush overhead."
"That's certainly a queer place," laughed Billy, stringing his eleventh trout on the branch provided by Dave, "for underbrush. Here, I'll pull it out for you."
The wonderfully happy morning passed all too quickly—there should be some way of prolonging summer mornings in a trout stream. They had eaten their wholesome lunch, and Mr. Black, his fine dark eyes aglow with eagerness, his thick, almost-white hair standing up all over his head, had fished in a dozen perfectly marvelous holes that Dave had pointed out, when the castaways reached in their wanderings a point crossed by a broken-down bridge. One end was still in place; the other sagged until it was partly submerged. Seated on the dry end of this flimsy structure, fish-pole in hand, was a stout, placid man, whose mild, serene blue eyes invited confidence.
Sociable Mr. Black, still aglow with the joy of his unusual luck and glad of a chance to display his splendid catch, proudly disclosed the contents of his basket—also of the basket that Dave carried.
Billy, too, and the girls flocked nearer to display their respective catches. It was certainly a fine showing. Mr. Black, however, had the lion's share.
"How many did you say?" drawled the comfortable stranger, seemingly only mildly interested in the count. His apparent indifference, indeed, proved quite galling to Mr. Black, who had introduced himself and his party.
"Seventy-two for mine," beamed Mr. Black. "For once we'll have all the trout we can eat."
"Well, Mr. Black," returned the man, in his leisurely, indifferent way, "I'm sorry for you; but I guess you'll have to ride to Lakeville in my buckboard to-night. I'm the game warden; and fifty fish is the limit."
"The game warden!" gasped Mabel.
"The game warden!" gasped Henrietta.
"The game warden!" gasped all the others.
"The penalty," drawled the leisurely officer, "is either imprisonment or a fine—seein' it's you, you'll probably have to pay a fine."
"I will!" exclaimed Mr. Black. "What's that about a limit? I didn't know——"
"New law," explained the man, lazily. "And some of these here trout that your kids have caught are undersized; they ain't seven inches—'nother new law; you'll have to pay for those, too."
"Why, the limit is six inches."
"Used to be, ain't any more," returned the placid person, fumbling in his pocket for a battered copy of the game laws. "See, here's what it says."
"I guess you're right," admitted Mr. Black, scanning the pages.
"I'm real sorry," stated the game warden for the second time. "But you see, Mr. Black, I've got to arrest somebody this week or they'll think I'm not earning my salary. And I guess you can stand it lots better'n some."
"Well," said Mr. Black, "I certainly supposed I was a law-abiding citizen; but I'm willing to pay the piper—it isn't often that I dance to such a merry tune. Those fish are worth any fine that I shall have to pay. I'll go down with you to-night if you'll tell me where to meet you; but I'm going to eat my share of those fish first—I assure you of that!"
Mabel, who had edged closer to the game warden, now relieved her mind.
"Say," she queried, "you won't put him in jail, will you?"
"Not if he's able to pay his fine," smiled the stout officer.
"Where," she next demanded, severely, "are your leggings?"
"Leggings!" exclaimed the puzzled man. "Why! They don't make any big enough to go round my fatted calves."
"I don't believe you are the game warden," declared Mabel. "You're just pretending."
The complacent officer, however, proved his right to the title by showing certain documents to Mr. Black. But, as Mabel leaned closer to inspect them, too, her weight upon the rotten log on which the bulky game warden sat proved too much for the time-worn timber. Down it crashed, taking Mabel and the astonished officer with it.
Fortunately, the water at this point was sufficiently deep to break their fall, for the river bottom near the bridge was of solid sandstone, and therefore pretty hard. Dave plunged in after Mabel, but permitted the gasping game warden to flounder out by himself. By way of atonement, Mr. Black invited the victim to supper and later loaned him some dry clothing. After this accident, the campers, somewhat subdued but fully alive to the wonderful charm of the day, proceeded toward home. It was five o'clock when the castaways, hungry but otherwise none the worse for their long day in the river, finally reached Pete's Patch; for the point in the pretty stream that was only three-quarters of a mile away by land was almost a day's journey by water, owing to the numerous twists and turns of the winding river that was so like Dave's queer conscience.
"Say, M'sieu Black," said Dave, lingering after the others had turned toward camp, and speaking in a dreadful whisper very close to Mr. Black's ear. "Ah'm good frien' to you. Eet ees ver' bad, Ah'm tole (here Dave's black eye glittered humorously), to broke dose game law; but eef you ees weesh for hide you'self, me, Ah'm show you som' pooty good plass. Dose game ward' hunt for feefty year biffore she ees fin' dose ol' Pete Black. Hey, Pete? You lak for hide on yourself?"
"Thank you, Dave," returned Mr. Black, "but I guess I'd better take my medicine like a man—a man doesn't hide."
His first plan failing, Dave kindly offered to set the game warden hopelessly astray, to steal his horse, and finally, as a last resort, to murder the unsuspecting officer in a variety of ingenious ways. But Mr. Black declined all these kindly offers and finally convinced Dave that he didn't mind going to Lakeville, with a good fish supper inside of him.
The castaways found Mr. Saunders in possession of the camp at Pete's Patch. He had whittled a shingle doll for Rosa Marie, who sat in rapt devotion at his feet.
"She hasn't taken her eyes off me since I arrived, three hours ago," declared Saunders, rising to hand some papers to Mr. Black. "She's immensely taken with either my auburn hair or my new tan shoes—I don't know which. I didn't know, Mr. Black, what you wanted done about this insurance matter, so I brought the letters to you."
"Mighty glad to see you," returned Mr. Black, "for I'm going to town to-night. You'll have to stay here till I get back and be a father to my family. I'm under arrest for breaking the game laws—but wait till you see what I broke 'em with. Those fish——"
"Any news from Pittsburg?" interrupted Mrs. Crane.
"Not a word. But I've brought letters for all those girls. Their mothers, aunts, and so forth want to know how they're going to get them ready to go away to school next fall if you keep them in the woods all summer. They want to make clothes for them."
"It isn't polite," giggled lively Henrietta, "to answer letters the moment you get them. And anyhow, who wants clothes?"
"There's just one thing that we do want," said Mrs. Crane, "and that's news for our Billy-boy. He's so uneasy that he can't rest. In fact, we're all uneasy—in a state of suspense——"
"Well," returned Mr. Black, "worrying won't hurry matters, so you'd better amuse yourselves with other things—perhaps Saunders will help."
Saunders did help; nevertheless, it was hard to wait; for by this time Laddie-Billy was quite certain that he was a friendless waif, a homeless orphan, or, at best, a hopelessly lost youngster with only half a mind.
"I'd rather be dead," mourned Billy, bitterly, "than a blithering idiot."