But while I'm in I might
as well do the whole thing. Now watch me go after that floating oar of
yours," and so saying he started to move down-stream again.
This time he drew the boat after him, and just opposite his fishing hole
he managed to overtake the runaway oar, now held against a jutting rock,
and speedily placed it in the possession of the girl.
"Won't you go home with me to get dried out, Dick?" asked Bessie,
looking at him in sincere admiration as he stood up in the water, and
pulled the boat toward the shore.
"What, me? Why, this is a picnic for a boy at this time of year. I'm
going to wring the worst of it out, and then row your boat back up the
river for you. Why, long before I go home my luxurious fishing suit will
be dried on me. Saves pressing, you know, Bessie. And by cutting a few
sticks like clothes-pins I can snap them on along the front and get a
beautiful crease!"
She laughed at his merry conceit, for Dick had always been a favorite of
hers among the school companions of other days.
He was as good as his word, and persisted in rowing the boat back to the
landing from which she had started out; while Bessie sat there fondling
her Angora kitten, and rubbing its bedraggled hairy form with her little
handkerchief.
Dick went back to his fishing, amused at his little adventure, and never
once suspecting what a tremendous influence such a small thing was
destined to have on his whole future.
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