Dab Kinzer: A Story of a Growing Boy by William O. Stoddard (good books to read for women TXT) 📗

that bay without any time given him to undress.

And now it was discovered that the shipwrecked crabber had never for one instant lost his hold of the line, to the other end of which was fastened his precious sheep's-head.

They made a regular crabbing crew now,—two to pull up, and one to scoop in; and never had the sprawling game been more plentiful on that pasture, or more apparently in a greedy hurry to be captured.

"What on earth shall we do with them all?" asked Ford.

"Soon's we've got enough for a mess for both our folks," said Dab, "we'll quit this, and go for some fish. The clams are good bait, and we can try some of your tackle."

Ford's face brightened a good deal at that suggestion, for he had more than once cast a crest fallen look at his pretentious box. But he replied,—

"A mess! How many crabs can one man eat?"

"I don't know," said Dab. "It depends a good deal on who he is. Then, if he eats the shells, he can't take in so many."

"Eat de shells? Yah, yah, yah! Dat beats my mudder! She's allers a-sayin' wot a waste de shells make," laughed Dick. "I jest wish we might ketch some fish. I dasn't kerry home no crabs."

"It does look as if we'd got as many as we'll know what to do with," remarked Dab, as he looked down on the sprawling multitude in the bottom of the boat. "We'll turn the clams out of the basket, and fill that; but we mustn't put any crabs in the fish-car. We'll stow 'em all forward."

The basket held more than half a bushel, but there was still a "heap" of what Ford Foster called "the crusties" to pen up in the bow of the boat.

That duty attended to, the grapnel was pulled up, and Dick was set at the oars, while Dab selected from Ford's box just the hooks and lines their owner had made least account of.

"What'll we catch, Dab?"

"'Most anything. Nobody knows till he's done it. Perch, porgies, cunners, black-fish, weak-fish, maybe a bass or a sheep's-head, but more cunners than any thing else, unless we strike some flounders at the turn of the tide."

"That's a big enough assortment to set up a fish-market on."

"If we catch 'em. We've got a good enough day, anyhow, and the tide'll be about right by the time we get to work."

"Why not try here?"

"'Cause there's no fish to speak of, and because the crabs'll clean your hook for you as fast as you can put the bait on. We must go out to deeper water and better bottom. Dick knows just where to go. You might hang your line out all day and not get a bite, if you didn't strike the right spot."

Ford made no answer, but looked on very seriously while Dab skilfully slit up a tough old Dutch clam into bait. It was beginning to dawn upon him that he could teach the "'long-shore boys," whether black or white, very little about fishing. He even allowed Dab to pick out a line for him, and to put on the hook and sinker; and Dick Lee showed him how to fix his bait, "so de fust cunner dat rubs agin it won't knock it off. Dem's awful mean fish. Good for nuffin but 'teal bait."

A merry party they were; and the salt water was rapidly drying from the garments of the colored oars-man, as he pulled strongly and skilfully out into the bay, and around toward a deep cove at the north of the inlet mouth.

Then, indeed, for the first time in his life, Ford Foster learned what it was to catch fish.

Not but what he had spent many an hour, and even day, on and about other waters, with a rod or a line in his hand; but he had never before had two such born fishermen at his elbow to take him to the right place precisely, and at the right time, and then to show him what to do when he got there.

It was fun enough; for the fish bit remarkably well, and some of those which came into the boat were of a very encouraging size and weight.

There was one curious thing about those heavier fish.

Ford would have given half the hooks and lines in his box, if he could have caught from Dick or Dab the mysterious "knack" they seemed to have of coaxing the biggest of the finny folk to their bait, and then over the side of the boat.

"There's some kind of favoritism about it," he remarked.

"Never mind, Ford," replied Dab. "Dick and I are better acquainted with them. They're always a little shy with strangers, at first. They don't really mean to be impolite."

Favoritism it was, nevertheless; and there was now no danger but what Dick would be able to appease the mind of his mother without making any mention of the crabs.

At last, almost suddenly, and as if by common consent, the fish stopped biting, and the two "'long shore boys" began to put away their lines.

"Going to quit?" asked Ford.

"Time's up, and the tide's turned," replied Dab.

"Not another bite, most likely, till late this evening. We might as well pull up, and start for home."

"That's a curious kind of a habit for fish to have."

"They've all got it though, 'round this bay."

"Mus' look out for wot's lef' ob de ole scow, on de way home," remarked Dick a little solemnly. "I's boun' to ketch it for dat good-for-noting ole board."

"We'll find it, and tow it in," said Dab; "and perhaps we can get it mended. Anyhow, you can go with us next week. We're going to make a cruise in Ham Morris's yacht. Will you go?"

"Will I go? Yoop!" almost yelled the excited boy. "Dat's jest de one t'ing I'd like to jine. Won't we hab fun! She's jest de bes' boat on dis hull bay. You ain't foolin' me, is yer?"

He was strongly assured that his young white associates were in sober earnest about both their purpose and their promise; and, after that, he insisted on rowing all the distance home.

On the way the old punt was taken in tow; but the tide had already swept it so far inside the mouth of the inlet, that there was less trouble in pulling it the rest of the way. It was hardly worth the labor, but Dab knew what a tempest the loss of it might bring around the ears of poor Dick.

When they reached the landing, and began to over-haul their very brilliant "catch," Dabney said,—

"Now, Dick, take your string home, leave that basket of crabs at Mr. Foster's, and then come back with the basket, and carry the rest of 'em to our house. Ford and I'll see to the rest of the fish."

"I haven't caught half as many as you have, either of you," said Ford, when he saw with what even-handed justice the fish were divided in three piles, as they were scooped out of the fish-car.

"What of that?" replied Dab. "We follow fishermen's rules, down this way. Share and share alike, you know. All the luck is outside the boat, they say. Once the fish are landed, your luck's as good as mine."

"Do they always follow that rule?"

"The man that broke it wouldn't find company very easily, hereabouts, next time he wanted to go a-fishing. No, nor for any thing else. Nobody'd boat with him."

"Well, if it's the regular thing," said Ford hesitatingly. "But I'll tell who really caught 'em."

"Oh, some of yours are right good ones! Your string'd look big enough, some days, just as you caught 'em."

"Would it?"

"Yes, it would. Don't you imagine we can pull 'em in every time like we did this morning,—crabs nor fish."

"No, I s'pose not. Anyhow, I've learned some things."

"I guess likely. We'll go for some more next week. Now for a tug."

"Ain't they heavy, though!"

The boat had already been made fast; and the two boys picked up their strings of fish, two for each, after Dick Lee had started for home; and heavy things they were to carry under that hot sun.

"Come and show the whole lot to my mother," said Ford, "before you take yours into the house. I'd like to have her see them all."

"All right," replied Dab, but he little dreamed what was coming; for, when he and Ford marched proudly into the sitting-room with their finny prizes, Dabney found himself face to face with, not good, sweet-voiced Mrs. Foster, but, as he thought, the most beautiful young lady he had ever seen.

Ford Foster shouted, "Annie! You here? Well, I never!"

But Dab Kinzer wished all those fish safely back again swimming in the bay.

CHAPTER IX. THERE ARE DIFFERENT KINDS OF BOYS.

Ham Morris was a thoughtful and kind-hearted fellow, beyond a doubt; and he was likely to be a valuable friend for a growing boy like Dab Kinzer. It is not everybody's brother-in-law who would find time during his wedding-trip to hunt up even so pretty a New-England village as Grantley, and inquire into questions of board and lodging and schooling.

That was precisely what Ham did, however; and Miranda went with him of course.

Mrs. Myers, to the hospitalities of whose cool and roomy-looking house he had been commended by Mr. Hart, was so "crowded full with summer boarders," liberally advertised for in the great city, that she had hardly a corner left in which to stow away Ham and his bride, for even one night. She was glad enough, however, that she had made the effort, and found one, after she discovered the nature of the stranger's errand in Grantley, and that it included "winter board" for a whole boy.

There was a look of undisguised astonishment on the faces of the regular guests when they gathered for the next meal. It happened to be supper, but they all looked at the table and then at one another. It was a pity Ham and Miranda did not understand the meaning of those glances, or else that they did not make a longer stay with Mrs. Myers. They might have learned more about her and her boarding-house, if not about the academy. As it was, they only gathered a very high opinion of her cookery and hospitality, as well as an increase of respect for the "institution of learning," and for that excellent gentleman Mr. Hart; with a dim hope that Dabney Kinzer might be permitted to enjoy the inestimable advantages offered by Grantley and Mrs. Myers, and the society of Mr. Hart's two wonderful boys.

Miranda was inclined to stand up for her brother somewhat, but finally agreed with Ham, that,—

"What Dabney needs is schooling and polish, my dear. It'll be good for him to board in the same house with two such complete young gentlemen as the Hart boys."

"Of course, Ham. And then, too, we'll feel sure of his having plenty to eat. There was almost too much on the table."

"Not if the boarders had all been boys of Dab's age, and with his appetite. Mrs. Myers is evidently accustomed to provide for them, I should say."

So she was; and Ham and Miranda left Grantley next morning, after a very early breakfast; and, when the regular boarders came to theirs, they might have guessed at once that the "transient guests" had gone. They even guessed it out loud at dinner and at supper.

Mrs. Myers had given Ham and his bride a world of interesting information about Grantley, and the things and people in it; but there was one thing she had forgotten or neglected to mention. She had failed to tell them that the house she lived in, and the outlying farm belonging to it, and nearly all the house-hold effects it contained, were the property of Mr. Joseph Hart, having cost that gentleman very little more than a sharp lawsuit. Neither did she say a word about how long a time he had given her to pay him his price for it. All that was her own private affair, and none of Ham's business, or Miranda's. Still, it might have had its importance in their minds, if they had been informed of it.

Perhaps, too, some of their rosy impressions might have been a little modified if they could have been at the breakfast-table of the