“There isn’t going to be any motion,” I said, quoth I. “This is going to be a case of sitting still.” “Follow your leader,” Hervey said. “What are you going to do? Stand on your head on the railing?” I asked him. He just vaulted up onto the railing of the bridge and we all did the same and sat there swinging our legs and waiting for the fishing boat and singing those rhymes and changing them around. Pretty soon we were all shouting: Don’t fall in the creek for the water’s quite wet, But think of the fish that we’re soon going to get; Mm-m CHAPTER XII WE COLLECT TOLL After about six weeks and ten years the fishing boat came chugging up the creek. Anyway it seemed as long as that before it came. The chugging of that engine sounded good. “Now for the eats,” Garry said. Hervey said, “They’ll have a lot of perch and some bass and maybe some soft-shell crabs.” “Isn’t there anything in this creek?” the kid wanted to know. “Nothing except water,” Hervey told him. “Anyway we haven’t got any fishline, have we? Thank goodness we’ve got some matches, we can start a fire.” “We’ll fry them brown, hey?” Pee-wee said, all excited. “Any color will suit me,” I told him. “They won’t be any color at all when we get through with them,” Bert said. By that time the boat was quite near and we could see a couple of baskets of fish in the cockpit, and there were two men. Oh boy, how I longed to eat them, I mean the fish. Pretty soon one of the men shouted for us to open the bridge, so they could pass. I called, “Hey, mister, will you give us a couple of fish? We’re perched up here waiting for some perch.” He laughed and said sure, but that we should open the bridge. Now the way to open that bridge was to walk around pushing a big iron handle like a crowbar only longer. It was kind of like a windlass. I guess one man could do it all right but it took three of us to get the bridge started. It wasn’t a very big bridge but I’m not saying anything about that because we’re not so big either except our appetites and maybe one reason we couldn’t push so well was because we were hungry. Garry said, “I guess when the creek is nearly empty boats can go under this bridge all right.” I said, “Don’t talk about being empty; I’m so full of emptiness it’s flowing over. Get your hands on this thing and push. If anything should go wrong now we’ll have to eat the Animal Cracker.” So then we all started pushing the long iron handle—it was a lever, that’s what it was. All the while the boat was standing about twenty feet away from the bridge and one man was keeping her bow upstream with a big oar while the other man was kind of fumbling in one of the baskets picking out a nice big fish. Pretty soon he held one up all wet and dripping and, oh boy, it looked good. I guess it was nearly a foot long. He shouted, “How will that one do?”