sing!"

Immediately a mournful yowling began in the bow of the boat, growing
louder as they drew away from shore. And then, amid the laughter of
his three companions, Dave ended his wail and instead broke into a
lively boating song, the others joining in at the chorus. For Dave's
singing was a source of pride to his friends.

So, Dave singing lustily and Tod and Jerry tugging at the oars in
time with the music, they swung away from the dock and out in the
center channel of Plum Run, a good hundred yards from shore. Once in
the current, they swung straight ahead down stream. Before long the
last house of Watertown, where people were fast beginning to stir,
had faded from view. They passed safely through the ripples of the
shoals above Barren Island, a great place for channel cat when the
water was lower. Through the West Branch they steered, holding close
to the island shore, for while the current was slower, at least the
water was deeper and safer.

A mile-long stretch of smooth rowing lay ahead of them now, after
which they entered Goose Slough, narrow and twisty, with half-hidden
snags, and sudden whirlpools. More than one fishing party had been
capsized in its treacherous quarter mile of boiling length. Then
came a so-called lake, Old Grass, with the real Grass Lake barely
visible through its circle of trees. A crystal-clear creek was its
outlet to Plum Run, a thousand gleaming sunfish and tiny bass
flashing through its purling rapids or sulking in deep, dark pools.
There was good fishing in Grass Lake, but waist-high marsh grass,
saw-edged, barred the way for nearly half a mile.