"They won't, then. And there's plenty of others just like 'em. They're
getting together in a kind of a flock these last two or three days. Some
of 'em are pretty big ones."

"Boys," exclaimed Frank, "how about our boxing lessons?"

"Guess we haven't forgotten 'em all in one week," said Ford. "I was
thinking about to-morrow."

So were they all; and they held a council-of-war about it, in their own
room, before supper. The result was, that, by a unanimous vote, that
Saturday was to be devoted to the catching of fish, rather than to
playing ball, or any thing else that would bring them into immediate
contact with Joe and Fuz.

They had all brought their fishing-tackle with them, as a matter of
course; plenty of worms for bait were to be dug in the garden; and Dab
Kinzer had learned, by careful inquiry, that both bait and tackle could
be used to good purpose in the waters of "Green Pond," and sundry other
small bits of lakes, miles and miles away among the hills to the north
of Grantley.

"We'll have a grand time," he said, "and it'll do us all good. No crabs,
though. Wonder if those fresh-water fish bite like ours down in the
bay."

"Some do, and some don't," said Ford. "I've caught 'em."

It did not occur to him now, however, that he could probably teach Dab;