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