MRS. , can’t I take Ned fishing?” asked Tom, through the open door.  
He and Ned and Bob were sitting on the front porch. It was two weeks after the shooting accident, and Ned, aside from the arm still carried, for safety, in a , was as hale as ever. Never a day passed that Tom was not in to see him at least once, and often more frequently, and visits from Hal and other friends the calling list.
 
Ned had told so many times just “how it felt” to be shot, that now it was an old story, and he was getting tired of being the fashion.
 
“Why——I hardly think it would be wise, Tom,” responded Mrs. Miller, from within.
 
“But fishing’ll soon be over—that is, the best of it,” pressed Tom. “ are running thick as flies, so you can catch them as fast as you can throw in and pull out. Hen Swiggert brought home a hundred and four yesterday, and he was gone just part of a day. It’s too bad Ned has got to miss the fun.”
 
“’Twouldn’t hurt me a bit, mother,” urged Ned. “’Twould do me good.”
 
“I think you ought to keep quiet,” declared his mother.
 
“He can be just as quiet as he is here,” argued Tom. “We’ll go over on Eagle. I’ll row him, and we’ll get up in , and all he’ll need do will be sit in the shade and fish. He can fish with one hand, easy.”
 
“Of course I can,” agreed Ned.
 
“Well, we’ll see what the doctor says about it,” promised Mrs. Miller; and that was the best word that the boys could squeeze out of her.
 
The doctor said: “Go ahead, but don’t get heated.”
 
“Isn’t he a dandy doctor, though!” exclaimed Ned, reporting to Tom.
 
“When I’m sick he’s the doctor I want! I’ll tell my mother so,” answered Tom. “When a fellow’s ready to go out he doesn’t keep him in!”
 
The boys had planned to use the scull-boat; but unluckily it turned out that Hal wanted the craft upon the same day as they, and Ned said, “All right.”
 
“I should think Hal could let you have the boat, considering you’re hurt,” hinted Tom. “Why can’t he?”
 
“He and Orrie Lukes are going up the river and stay all night,” explained Ned; “and they haven’t any other boat they can sleep in very well. The scull-boat’s dandy for sleeping in because it hasn’t any seats.”
 
Which was true.
 
“We can hire a skiff from Commodore Jones, I suppose, then,” said Tom, but in a tone not wholly satisfied.
 
“I suppose we’ll have to,” replied Ned. “We’ll get the No. 19—she pulls the easiest of any. But I’d rather have the scull-boat.”
 
“I tell you what!” exclaimed Tom, struck with an idea which had popped into his brain. “We’ll get a boat down at the Paper-mill Slough and then all we’ll have to do will be to row across.”
 
“Whose boat?” Ned.
 
“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Tom. “Anybody’s’ll do. There are always a lot of skiffs tied along shore there—old leaky things, but good enough for us to fool with.”
 
“It wouldn’t be stealing, would it?” asked Ned, anxiously.
 
“No; I wouldn’t call that ‘stealing,’” asserted Tom. “Some of them don’t belong to anybody, ’special. They’re just used by the South Beaufort fellows to monkey in, and aren’t even locked. Nobody’ll care a bit if we take one for a day, and bring it back. It’ll save us a big row up against the current, too.”
 
“Save you, you mean,” corrected Ned. “I can’t row, except with one hand.”
 
“You shan’t row a stroke!” Tom, alarmed lest Ned might be going to try. “I’m running this shooting-match!” Then he added, doubtfully: “Zu-zu wants to go.”
 
“Let’s take her,” urged Ned. “Of course! She wouldn’t be in the way a bit.”
 
“Girls are a kind of bother, usually, out fishing, but Zu-zu’s different from most of them,” said Tom, highly pleased.
 
“Zu-zu’s got sense. She doesn’t just stand round and squeal,” observed Ned, .
 
“That’s right. I’ll say it, if she is my sister,” agreed Tom.
 
Half-past five o’clock Saturday morning found the four of them—Ned and Tom and Zu-zu and Bob—at the Paper-mill Slough. Ned had under his sound arm his and Tom’s rods, while Zu-zu proudly bore a slender little pole purchased for her by Tom, on the previous evening. Tom was in charge of a basket of lunch.
 
This basket Zu-zu, who would have preferred that each one carry a few slices of bread and butter and sugar done up in a paper bag, just as the boys did when they went alone. But her mother had insisted upon the basket, with lunch in it for three. Ned was to furnish nothing; he was guest of honor.
 
Bob carried himself.
 
The morning was ideal—dewy and balmy and clear. Zu-zu, who rarely had been up so early before, and who looked on this outing as the greatest event of her life, was in the seventh heaven of delight over everything; even Bob could not keep back a few ; but Ned and Tom, as befitted old hunters and fishers, used to all hours and to all sights, were very matter-of-fact and stoical.
 
Indeed, Ned had thought it quite out of keeping with his dignity to have his mother arise before him, and over him while he ate his early breakfast, to make sure that he was well provided for and that his shoulder was not troubling him!
 
The sun was half an hour high, and, peeping over the trees of Eagle, opposite, was shining across the smooth waterway. Fish were jumping, birds were twittering, and the air was deliciously fresh.
 
With their noses resting upon the shore, and the little lapping against their sides, just below the paper-mill there were, as Tom had predicted, quite a number of skiffs, of various shapes and in various stages of ruin. But, contrary to that which he had predicted, all seemed to be padlocked, with chains, to rings and .
 
“That’s a pretty idea!” Tom, along the line. “You’d think the old shebangs were worth something!”
 
“Isn’t it almost stealing, Ned?” inquired Zu-zu. “Tom says it isn’t.”
 
“N-no,” replied Ned, weighing the and of the matter. “You see, if we find a boat that’s unlocked it’s a pretty sure sign that either it hasn’t an owner, or else the owner doesn’t care if people borrow it. We’re just going across the slough in it.”
 
Zu-zu accepted the decision as final; Tom and Ned ought to know. She looked on anxiously as Tom examined the various fastenings. What if the trip had to be given up!
 
Bob sat down near Ned, and . He wondered why this fussing and delay. It was only a short swim.
 
“Hurrah—here’s one that’s only tied,” announced Tom.
 
“Goodie!” exclaimed Zu-zu, jumping up and down.
 
Ned heaved a sigh of relief, and Bob up his ears.
 
“Come on, Zu-zu,” said Ned, to the boat, at the bows of which Tom was .
 
The boat proved to be the worst of the lot. It was a clumsy-looking, flat-bottomed affair, with square ends, and unpainted.
 
“What are you going to row with?” asked Zu-zu, stopping short.
 
Ned stared at Tom, and Tom stared at Ned. Somehow, had not occurred to them, although had they thought, they would have known that whatever the boat, the oars would not be left in it.
 
“I’ll paddle with a board,” declared Tom. “You get in while I’m hunting one.”
 
“Sit in the other end, Zu-zu,” bade Ned, holding out his hand to help her as she sprang from seat to seat. Bob was less polite. He rushed rudely past her, as if afraid of being left, and planted himself in the stern.
 
“Bob! Shame on you,” reproved Ned. “Don’t you know that the rule is ‘ladies first’?”
 
“But that’s meant for men, not dogs, isn’t it, Bob?” comforted Zu-zu, perching herself beside him, and sitting on her feet to keep them out of the water that swished about in the leaky craft.
 
Tom, with a piece of board in his hands, hurried back, and when Ned had securely upon a seat in the middle, with a lusty heave he slowly started the heavy boat from its mooring-place, and tumbled in.
 
He stood up, and with a long, motion paddled first on the one side and then on the other. The craft, with its load, gradually crept toward the shore of Eagle, a stone’s throw away. Zu-zu, in the spot assigned her, longed to trail her hand in the water, but refrained. She did not dare so much as move, lest she should become a “bother.”
 
Under Tom’s efforts they floated into the narrow mouth of a little bayou, called Catfish Slough, which wound through the island and emptied into Lake, in the centre of the island.
 
“Gracious, but this is hard work!” Tom, after they had run aground several times in rounding corners. “The old thing won’t answer her helm.”
 
“Poor Tom,” cooed Zu-zu.
 
 
“Let’s get out and walk,” proposed Ned. “It’ll be quicker, and easier, too.”
 
Bob already was walking—or, rather, . According to his custom, as the boat approached the land he had .
 
“Let’s,” chimed in Zu-zu.
 
Tom swung the unwieldly craft in broadside against the bank, where trees and bushes came clear to the water’s edge, and all disembarked—although by different methods. That is, Zu-zu skipped out, Ned leaped out, and Tom merely stepped out, so that he could stoop and tie the chain painter to a root. Bob was present to welcome them.
 
“There!” Tom said. “We’ve got here, anyway.”
 
“Nobody’ll take it, I guess,” remarked Ned.
 
“Not if they have to row it,” asserted Tom.
 
“It’s the Black Swan!” cried Zu-zu, gazing back upon it. “See? It has the name on the—the—well, I don’t know whether you say stern or bow, but it’s right under where I was sitting.”
 
“Huh! Black Swan!” commented Tom, in scorn. “They ought to name it Mud Turtle.”
 
“You ought not to complain, Tom,” lectured Zu-zu. “You might have had no boat at all.”
 
Then she suddenly closed her lips, and grew red, for fear lest she might have said too much.
 
But Ned and Tom only laughed good-naturedly.
 
They walked ahead for a short distance, following a path along the little bayou, until they came upon a place where the bank was rather high, and the water before it was unusually wide and deep.
 
“This will do, won’t it?” spoke Ned, who was in advance, halting.
 
“I guess so,” replied Tom, also halting.
 
Zu-zu said nothing; she had faith in the two boys. Bob dashed up and pausing an instant to catch the drift of things, dashed off again. When he was in the woods he was always very, very busy.
 
The bothersome basket, which nevertheless was soon to make itself exceedingly agreeable, was dropped at the foot of a tree; the boys fitted together the of their rods, and Ned baited Zu-zu’s hook for her, that she might be first to throw in. Although he was limited to one arm, he could use the fingers of both hands.
 
Presently Zu-zu was staring at her , bobbing upon the ripples.
 
“Oh, it’s under—it’s under!” she cried. “What shall I do?”
 
“Pull it out, quick!” commanded Tom.
 
Thereupon Zu-zu gave a tremendous jerk, high into the air an astonished perch, which fell back with a splash. The empty hook landed among the bushes far behind.
 
“Oh, dear! It got away!” complained Zu-zu.
 
“You mustn’t jerk so hard, Zu-zu,” advised Ned. “Watch how we do it.”
 
At that instant his bobber, too, wavered, and ducked, and he cleverly lifted to land a fat yellow perch.
 
“I’ve got one, too!” exclaimed Tom.
 
“Hurrah!” laughed Ned, . “They’re biting fine, aren’t they?”
 
“Poor things—just see how they ,” said Zu-zu, watching Ned string his spoil. “Do you suppose it hurts them so very much?”
 
“I don’t believe fish feel as much as we do, or they wouldn’t have be............