," said Joe; "we'll get there quicker, and I'm
most crazy to see how she works; aren't you?"

"You bet," replied Ned. "Shove off. Let fall," he added, giving himself
part of the orders he had picked up but a week before, while on a visit
to a friend on the Sound. "Give way; how's that for nautical, Joe?"

"Never mind nautical," said Joe; "git there is what we want. _One_,
two--now, now!" He grunted out each word to help Ned, who was pulling
with all his might, and the light little boat jumped ahead at each
stroke.

Around the point, which formed the bay in which the boat was kept, on
the shore, but partly hidden by the trees, was an old, rather
dilapidated ice-house; it was called that by courtesy, for it was no
house at all; it had no roof--it never had one--but it was used once to
store ice in, and the fishing-ground along the shore in front of it had
always been designated by the boys as "off the ice-house." Ned and Joe
claimed to themselves that they alone knew of the existence of a certain
ledge which ran for some distance parallel to the shore, but much
farther out than the average fisherman would think of dropping anchor.

As they approached the place, in order to get the right spot to leave
the first float, which had a choice fat frog wriggling at the end of the
line, Ned slowed down and began to row quietly. He got a certain stump
on a point of land in line with the roof of a barn way back on the
hill-side, and was watching for the cross-line, a clump of bright
willows with a scraggly dead tree some distance behind them.

"Whoa, slowly," said Joe, who was also watching. "There! hold her, and
I'll let him go. There, my fine friend," he added, addressing the frog;
"good-by to you and good luck to us. Now, a stroke or two: there, let
her slide! And to you, Mr. Hoppergrass, good-by, and good-luck." He
gently dropped the line over the side, and, so with the others, all had
a farewell given them as they were dropped over at intervals. Then the
boys rowed on towards Baldwin's Cliff, keeping their eyes on the small
floats as they left them bobbing under and over the tiny waves.

About four o'clock Ned and Joe had had enough swimming and diving, and
fetching white stones from the bottom; they had been in, as was usually
the case, too long, yet both wanted to stay in longer. Nothing had
happened, as far as they could see, to their floats, and they felt
keenly disappointed. They had hardly noticed that the clouds wer