“Too bad we couldn’t take Carleton along with us,” said Harvey, as the yacht _Viking_, with all sail spread, was beating down the bay. “He ought to have asked us sooner. We might have managed to make room for him.” “You mean, he ought to have said he was going sooner,” said Henry Burns, slyly. “Oh, I suppose so,” replied Harvey, half-impatiently. “I see, you never will quite like our new friend. By the way, that reminds me, he wants to buy the _Viking_. He says he will give us eighteen hundred dollars. That’s the second offer we’ve had this summer.” “Are you sure it isn’t the same one?” suggested Henry Burns. “Why, of course it is,” cried Jack Harvey. “Sure enough, that’s what Harry Brackett was up to. He was buying for Mr. Carleton—just trying to show off, and make us think he had all that money.” “That’s queer, too,” remarked Henry Burns, “that Mr. Carleton should try to buy the _Viking_ after just that one short sail down the river.” “Oh, I don’t know,” returned Harvey; “he saw what the boat could do—at least, in smooth water. No, that wouldn’t quite answer, either. He must have heard about her from some of the fishermen over at Bellport.” “Well, do you want to sell?” inquired Henry Burns. “Not much!” replied Harvey, emphatically. “I know you don’t, either, although you don’t say so.” “Well, that’s true; I’d rather not,” admitted Henry Burns. The wind was light, and they had only reached Hawk Island by six o’clock. So, not caring to risk another experience making Loon Island Harbour in the night, they anchored, and sailed over the next morning. They had provided bait for two days’ fishing before they left Southport, so they stood on past Loon Island Harbour and ran out direct to the fishing-grounds. They had a fair afternoon’s fishing, and also set two short pieces of trawl, for hake, a few fathoms off from one of the reefs. Captain Sam had provided them with these. They were long lines, each with about a hundred hooks attached at intervals by short pieces of line. At either end of the trawl-line was a sinker, and also a line extending to the surface of the water where it was attached to a buoy. This, floating conspicuously on the water, would mark the spot where the trawl had been set. Baiting these many hooks all along the trawl with herring, bought for the purpose at Southport, they set them at a point lying between two reefs, in about twenty-five fathoms of water, where Will Hackett had informed them there was a strip of soft, muddy bottom, a feeding-ground frequented by these fish. Then they ran in to harbour with their catch of cod, and took them up to the trader’s wharf. “We’re going to have some hake for you, too,” said Henry Burns. “That is, we expect to. What are you paying for hake these days?” The trader, Mr. Hollis, eyed the young fisherman with an amused expression.