“A little. I had to be busy on the farm all day, and nights were the only times I had free.” “Where do you plan to go?” “I had been thinking some of going to the Normal School at Jericho. That’s only forty miles from here. It won’t cost very much there, you know. If I can get a little money ahead, I’m going to try it anyhow,” Dan said quietly. “Going on to college?” “I should like to. The hardest thing is to leave my mother and Tom to run the farm. They need me and I don’t know that they really can get along without me.” “Don’t they want you to go?” “Yes. Mother says she’ll sell or mortgage the farm and go with me, if Tom will go too. She’d get a few rooms and perhaps take a few boarders and help us that way.” “Your mother is all right.” “Don’t I know that?” “You ought to, if any one does――――” “You’ve got a strike,” broke in Dan quietly. “Better pay attention to your fishing, that is, if you want to get any fish.” Conversation ceased as Walter sharply yanked his rod. “The fish got away!” he exclaimed with chagrin a minute later. “Of course,” said Dan dryly. “What did you expect? You pulled the hook right out of his mouth. You don’t think a pickerel will hang on with his fins and tail, do you?” “Show me how, Dan,” said Walter humbly. “I believe I’ve forgotten how to do it.” “No, you haven’t. You never knew how, so you haven’t forgotten. Hold on! You’ve got another strike! Hand me your rod and I’ll try to show you how to handle a strike.” CHAPTER II DAN’S PROJECT Dan took the light rod and instantly let out a few feet of the line. He dropped his oars as he did so and the skiff swung around before the gentle breeze that was blowing. Intently watching the line, he permitted the tip of the rod to drop back until it was even with the stern of the boat, and then with one strong yank he swung it back until it was again at a right angle with the skiff. “Take your rod,” he said quietly, as he handed it to his companion. “Your pickerel is hooked all right; now let me see you land it. Be careful of your slack,” he added quickly, as Walter began to reel in swiftly. The oars were again grasped by Dan, and he slowly sent the boat ahead, meanwhile watching his companion in the latter’s efforts to land his prey. “It’s a big fellow!” said Walter in his excitement as the contest continued. “It’ll weigh six pounds! It pulls like a load of bricks! I didn’t know there was a pickerel as big as that in Six Town Pond!” “Be careful,” said Dan in a low voice. “Let him run! Give him line or you’ll tear the hook out of his mouth! Not that way!” he added, as Walter permitted the struggling fish to make swiftly for the near-by weeds. “If you let him get among those weeds he won’t stop to say good-bye.” As Walter once more began to reel rapidly an expression of consternation swept over his face as he said, “It’s gone! There isn’t a bit of weight on the line! It must have got away.”