Only Donny was there, sitting disgruntled upon the most
comfortable rock he could find, sulking because the others had
taken all the fishing-tackle that was of any account, and had
left him to make shift with one bent, dulled hook, a lump of fat
pork, and a dozen feet of line.
"And I can catch more fish than anybody in the bunch!" he began
complainingly and without preface, waving a dirty hand
contemptuously at the despised tackle when the two came slowly
up. "That's the way it goes when you take a lot of girls along!
They've got to have the best rods and tackle, and all they'll do
will be to snag lines and lose leaders and hooks, and giggle alla
squeal. Aw--DARN girls!"
"And I'm going to pile it on still thicker, Donny!" Good Indian
grinned down at him. "I'm going to swipe your Pirate Chief for a
while, till I take Peppajee into camp. He's gentle, and
Peppajee's got a snake-bite. I'll be back before you get ready
to go home."
"I'm ready to go home right now," growled Donny, sinking his chin
between his two palms.
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