Brave stood quietly by his side, patiently waiting for the word
to start. They were not obliged to wait long, for hasty steps sounded
on the gravel walk that led up to the house, the gate swung open, and
George and Harry appeared, their arms filled with their
fishing-tackle.
"You're on time, I see," said Harry, as he climbed down into a large
skiff that was tied to the wharf, "Give us your fish-pole."
Frank accordingly handed his pole and basket down to Harry, who stowed
them away in the boat. He and George then went into the boat-house,
and one brought out a pair of oars and a sail, which they intended to
use if the wind should be fair, and the other carried two pails of
minnows, which had been caught the night before, to serve as bait.
They then got into the boat, and Frank took one oar and Harry the
other, and Brave stationed himself at his usual place in the bow.
George took the helm, and they began to move swiftly down the creek
toward the river. About a quarter of a mile below the mouth of the
creek was a place, covering half an acre, where the water was about
four feet deep, and the bottom was covered with smooth, flat stones.
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