Randy of the River | Page 8

on the railroad."
"I caught them this afternoon, so you can be sure they are fresh."
"I'm much obliged to ye, I am indade," said Mrs. Gilligan. She drew a long breath. "Sure an' the Lord is good to us after all. I was just afther thinkin' I had nothin' but throuble, whin in comes these iligant fish."
"Is something wrong?" asked Randy, curiously.
"It's not a great dale, yet it's enough fer a poor woman loike me. It's Mrs. Bangs' wash, so it is. Nothin' suits that lady, an' she always wants to pay less than she agreed."
"You mean Bob Bangs' mother?"
"Th' same, Randy. Oh, they are a hard-hearted family, so they are!"
"I believe you. And yet Mr. Bangs is rich."
"It's little enough I see of his money," sighed Mrs. Gilligan. "Although I do me besht wid the washin' an' ironin', so I do!"
"It's a wonder Mrs. Bangs don't make the servant do the washing and ironing."
"She did make the other wan do that same. But the new one can't iron an' won't try, so I have the work, an' the girrul gits less wages," answered the Irishwoman.
When Randy returned home he found supper almost ready. The appetizing odor of frying fish filled the air. A few minutes later Mr. Thompson came in.
Louis Thompson was a man a little past middle age, tall and thin and not unlike Randy in the general appearance of his face. He was not a strong man, and the winter before had been laid up with a severe attack of rheumatism.
"That smells good," he said, with a smile, as he kissed his wife. "I like fish."
"Randy just caught them."
"Good enough."
"You look tired, Louis," went on Mrs. Thompson. "Was the work extra hard?"
"Not much harder than usual, Lucy, but I was working on a cellar partition and it was very damp. It brought back a bit of the rheumatism."
"That is too bad."
"Can't the boss give you something else to do--something where it isn't damp?" questioned Randy.
"I have asked him about it," answered his father. "But just at present there is nothing else in sight."
"You must take care, Louis," said Mrs. Thompson. "It will not do to risk having the rheumatism come back."
"I wish I could get something to do," said Randy, while the evening meal was in progress. "I might earn some money and it would help. But there doesn't seem to be any kind of an opening in Riverport."
"Times are rather dull," answered Mr. Thompson. "And I am afraid they will be worse before they are better."
On the following day Randy went out after blackberries. Jack went with him and the boys went up the stream in the latter's boat.
"If I can get a good mess mother is going to preserve some," said Randy.
"I like blackberry jam," answered his friend.
The two boys had brought their lunch with them, intending to remain out all day. By noon they had picked twelve quarts of berries and then sat down by the river side to eat their lunch.
"What do you say to a swim?" remarked Jack, after the meal was over.
"Just the thing!" cried our hero. "But we mustn't remain in longer than half an hour. I want to pick more berries."
They were soon in the water, which was deliciously cool and refreshing. They dove and splashed around to their hearts' content and raced from one bank to the other and back. Randy won the race by several seconds.
"I declare, Randy, you are a regular water rat!" declared Jack. "I never saw a better swimmer."
"Well, I do love the water, that is certain," answered Randy.
"And you row such a good stroke, too."
"That's because I love boats."
The half-hour at an end, our hero leaped ashore and began to don his garments, and Jack did the same. They were just finishing their toilet when a rowboat came into view, containing Bob Bangs and several other of the loud boys of Riverport.
"There is Bob Bangs again," whispered Randy.
"We'll have to watch out that he doesn't try to rob us of our berries," whispered Jack, significantly.
"Humph! Up here again, eh?" remarked the big youth, resting on his oars.
"We are," answered Randy. "I think we can come, if we please."
"Certainly--for all I care," growled Bob.
"We are picking berries, and we intend to watch them, too," put in Randy, loudly.
At this pointed remark Bob Bangs colored slightly.
"I should think you'd pick your company, Jack Bartlett," he said, coarsely.
"I do. That is why I am not with you."
"Humph!"
"I consider myself just as good as you, Bob Bangs," said Randy, warmly. "I may not be as rich, but I never tried to steal a mess of fish from anybody."
"You shut up!" roared the big boy. And then he started to row away.
"You'll not get a chance to rob us of these berries," called out Jack after him.
"What do they