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w more faint. Then all at once back they came; for as he sat watching his float one day, a voice said sharply-- "Now then! why don't you strike!" But Dexter did not strike, and the fish went off with the bait as the holder of the rod exclaimed-- "Why haven't you been fishing all this time!" "What was the good?" said Bob, "I was getting ready to go, and talking to my mate, who's going with me." "Your mate!" exclaimed Dexter, whose heart sank at those words. "Yes, I know'd you wouldn't go, so. I began to look out for a chap who would." "But I didn't say that I really would not go," said Dexter, as he laid his tackle under the bushes. "Oh yes, you did; I could see what you meant. Do they bite to-day!" "I don't know," said Dexter dolefully. "But, I say, you couldn't have that boat if you wanted to." "Oh yes, I could if I liked." "But it isn't yours." "Tchah! couldn't you borrow it!" Dexter did not see how, and he climbed into the willow, while Bob went on fishing. "I hate a chap who is always trying to find out things to stop a fellow from doing anything. Why don't you say you won't go and ha' done with it?" Dexter sighed as he thought of the wonderful fish to be caught, and the great nuts on the trees, each of which nuts would make a meal. Then of the delight of sailing away in that beautiful boat down the river, and then out to sea, where they could land upon the sands and light their fire; and it seemed to him that such a life would be one long time of delight. He sat in his nest picking the buds off the willow twigs, and bending and lacing them together, furtively glancing at grubby-looking Bob Dimsted, whose appearance was not attractive; but what were appearances to a boy who possessed such gifts of knowledge in fishing and managing a boat, and had learned so much about foreign lands? Dexter sighed again, and Bob gave him a furtive look, as with evident enjoyment he took a red worm out of some moss and stuck his sharp hook into it, drew the writhing creature over the shank, and then passed the point through again and again. So to speak, he had impaled Dexter on a moral hook as well, the barb had gone right in so that it could not be drawn out without tearing; and Dexter writhed and twined, and felt as if he would have given anything to get away. Bob went on fishing, throwing the twisting worm just down among the roots of a willow-tree, and the float told directly af
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