"Just because we got in a muddle twice over in catching prawns and crabs you think we're always going to be in a mess." "No, I don't," said Bigley; "but it would be so queer if we got into a scrape the very first time we go out." "Get out! Oh, I say, you do make me grin, old Big.

There, go and get your lines, and a gaff, and the basket of bait.

Let's be off while the sea is so smooth." Bigley hesitated, and after a good deal of banter from Bob, and an appeal to me, he went off, sorry and yet pleased, to get the lines and bait.
"And now he'll be obliged to go, Sep.

Don't let's give him time to think, or he's such an old woman he'll back out." "But--" "Get out! Don't say but.

There, we won't go out far, only to the mouth there by the buoy, and we can catch plenty of fish without any trouble at all." I gave way--I couldn't help it, and we two went on, so that when Bigley came with the baskets and lines we were waiting for them, and his scruples were nearly overcome.
"Think it will matter if we take the boat ?" he said dubiously, for he evidently shared our longing to go.
I said no, I did not think it would, for we could clean it out after we had done fishing, and we had been boating so often with other people that I for one felt quite equal to the management of the little vessel.
But all the time there was a curious sensation of wrong-doing worrying me, and I wished that I had not been so ready to agree.