“That’s where the bread comes in,” explained his friend. “I’ll make a lot of holes, and stuff them up with bread. Then I’ll smear dirt over the bread and it won’t show. It will stay in the holes until Bill and the others get out in the middle of the river and then it will soak up, and come out. The boat will leak like a sieve, and they’ll have to swim ashore.” Spider worked industrially, and soon had a number of holes in the bottom of the fishing skiff. The holes were well plugged with bread, and smeared over so that they did not show. “Here they come!” suddenly warned Beantoe. “Well, I’m done!” Spider threw away what remained of the bread, put the auger under his coat, scattered to one side the pieces of wood that had resulted from the boring, and then he and his companion made a dash for the bushes, just as the three Smith brothers came in sight, with their fishing rods over their shoulders. “Looks like a good day for bites,” remarked Pete, as he got in the stern of the boat. “Sure,” agreed Bill, pausing on the bank to see if he had all his tackle. “Get in, Bill, and I’ll shove off,” proposed John, for the boat was drawn partly up on shore. “Now watch the fun,” whispered Spider to Beantoe, as they peered from the bushes, and saw the boat being rowed toward the middle of the deep river. “Maybe they’ll be drowned,” suggested Beantoe rather frightened. “Those fellows? Naw! They can swim like fishes, but their clothes will get wet, and it’ll serve ’em right for the way they treated us at the fire.” “How soon before the boat will begin to leak?” “It ought to in a few minutes now. Gee whillikins! But I’m glad I thought of that trick! Won’t they be surprised when the water comes rushing in?” “They sure will,” and then the two cronies eagerly watched the Smith boys, who, all unconscious of the fate in store for them, were rowing down toward the fishing grounds. CHAPTER IV A GREAT HOME RUN “Wow!” suddenly exclaimed Bill Smith, as he gave a start that nearly upset the boat. “What’s the matter, did you jab yourself?” asked Pete. “Yep. Ran a hook into my thumb,” answered Bill, as he carefully extracted the barb, while Pete, who was rowing, rested on the oars and looked critically at the few drops of blood which oozed forth. “Does it hurt?” he asked, rather needlessly. “Does it hurt? No, I do this every day just for exercise!” retorted. Bill sarcastically as he put the injured thumb into his mouth. “Shouldn’t do that,” observed Pete. “Do what; jab myself? Don’t you s’pose I know that, you amiable loon?” “No, I mean put your bleeding thumb into your mouth. You are likely to get germs in it.” “In which, my thumb or my mouth?” “Say, when you two fellows get through chinning, I wish you’d pass me down the box of hooks. I want to put on a smaller one,” observed Cap, who was getting his line ready. As he spoke he looked down into the bottom of the boat, and asked: “Who’s been eating crackers here?”