“Vot?” squawked Carl, in still greater excitement, scrambling off the wagon. “Vot iss it you didt told me? Iss it dot you didt vhip Chim Skimpson? I couldt not peliefe it possibility.” “It’s a fact,” declared Phil, “and it only took one wallop from Grant’s fuf-fist to settle his hash.” Spluttering his delight over this piece of intelligence, the Dutch boy rushed at Rodney and clasped him in his arms. “Mine gootness! I vill hug you for dot. Mine cracious! I couldt kiss you for dot.” “Don’t!” entreated Rod, pushing his overjoyed admirer away with some difficulty. “I did it on my own account, although I will confess it afforded me additional satisfaction because of his boast that he had thrashed you. Is that brook on Simpson’s land?” “His land didt begin der prook at.” “And he doesn’t own any territory on this side of the brook?” “Nefer a foot uf territories owns him this side uf der prook on.” “Then anybody can fish the brook without trespassing by following along the nearest bank?” “Yah,” nodded Carl. “Uf you fish along der nearest side avay from us, you vill not trespass. Undt you didt vallop Chim Skimpson! Dot inflamation almost makes me cry for choy.” “Come, fellers,” invited Crane, “let’s unload the canoe and launch her. Git holt.” Lifting the light craft, they bore it to the water’s edge in the sandy cove, Sile expressing his eagerness to try it out. The paddles were produced, and soon Crane and Springer were afloat in the canoe, propelling it with considerable skill, the others watching them from the point. “Dot vas too much like vurk,” murmured the Dutch boy, shaking his head. “It vould not like me at all.” “Still fishing would be the sport for you, I judge,” said Grant. “Yah, undt der stiller it vas der petter. I vould like to try him now uf I had the outfits.” “Where would you fish?” “Der vater in, uf course. I vould like to haf a goot mess uf fish to take me home for dinner.” “We can provide you with tackle, but no bait for still fishing. We have nothing but flies for casting.” “Dot kind uf bait didt not use me,” said Carl solemnly; “but uf you vill let me haf the tackles, I vill der bait get. Yah.” Rodney brought forth a stout steel rod, which he quickly put together and to which he attached a line-wound reel. The line being run through the eyelets, he bent on a leader and hook and nipped some split shot into place, to serve as sinkers. “There you are,” he said, handing the outfit over to Duckelstein. “Now go ahead and fish as much as you like.” “I vas much opliged,” grinned the Dutch boy. “I vill get some bait undt fish der rocks off, undt see what vill catch me. I hope it vas not an eels. An eels iss a pad fish und I didt not like him. An eels I vould not touch uf you vould a hundred tollars gif me.” “I don’t think you’re likely to catch an eel off those rocks,” said Rod.