Randy of the River | Page 2

your lines
handy?"
"No, but I can get them in less than ten minutes."
"All right. Meet me at the dock in quarter of an hour. I was thinking of
going up the river to Landy's Hole. That's a good spot, isn't it?"
"I think so. Last season I was up there and caught fourteen good-sized
fish."
"They tell me you are one of the best fishermen in Riverport, Randy,"
went on Jack Bartlett, admiringly. "What is the secret of your success?"
"I don't know unless it is patience," answered Randy, with a broad
smile. "To catch fish you must be patient. Now when I caught my mess
of fourteen two other boys were up to the Hole. But just because the
fish did not bite right away they moved away, further up the river. But
by doing that they got only about half as many as myself."
"Well, I am willing to be patient if I know I am going to catch
something."
At this Randy laughed outright.
"You can't be sure of anything--in fishing. But I always reckon it's a
good thing to hold on and give a thing a fair trial."
"I reckon you're right, Randy, and I'll give the fishing a fair trial
to-day," answered Jack Bartlett. "Remember, the dock in quarter of an
hour," he added, as he moved away.
"I'll be on hand--unless mother wants me to do something for her
before I go away," returned Randy.
Randy, or rather Randolph, Thompson, to use his right name, was the
only son of Louis Thompson, a carpenter of Riverport, a thriving town
in one of our eastern states. Randy had no brothers or sisters, and lived
with his father and mother in a modest cottage on one of the side roads

leading to the hills back of the town. Randy was a scholar in the local
school, standing close to the head of his class. It was now summer time
and the institution of learning was closed, so the boy had most of his
time to himself.
He had wanted to go to work, to help his father, who had some heavy
doctors' bills to pay, but his parents had told him to take at least two
weeks' vacation before looking for employment.
"He needs it," Mrs. Thompson had said to her husband. "He has applied
himself very closely to his studies ever since last fall."
"Well, let him take the vacation and welcome," answered Louis
Thompson. "I know when I was a boy I loved a vacation." He was a
kind-hearted man and thought a good deal of his offspring and also of
his wife, who was devoted to him.
The cottage stood back in the center of a well-kept garden, where Mrs.
Thompson had spent much time over her flowers, of which she was
passionately fond. It was a two-story affair, containing but five rooms,
yet it was large enough for the family, and Randy, who had never
known anything better, considered it a very good home. There was a
small white fence in front, with a gate, and the path to the front stoop
was lined with geraniums. Over the porch was trained a honeysuckle
which filled the air with its delicate fragrance.
"Mother, I'm going fishing with Jack Bartlett!" cried Randy, running
around to the kitchen, where his mother was busy finishing up the
week's ironing.
"Very well, Randy," she answered, setting down her flatiron and giving
him a smile. "I suppose you won't be back until supper time."
"It's not likely. Can I do anything for you before I go?"
"You might get a bucket of water and another armful of wood."
"I'll do that," answered Randy, and caught up the water bucket.

"Anything else?"
"No. Take care of yourself while you are on the river."
"Don't worry about me, mother. Remember, I can swim like a fish."
"Yes, I know. But you must be careful anyway," answered Mrs.
Thompson, fondly.
The water and wood were quickly brought into the cottage, Randy
whistling merrily while he performed these chores. Then the youth ran
for his fishing outfit, after which he took the spade, went down to the
end of the garden, and turned up some worms, which he placed in a
pasteboard box.
"Now I am off, mother!" he called out.
"Good-by, Randy," she said, and waved him a pleasant adieu from the
open kitchen window.
"She's the best mother a boy ever had," thought Randy, as he walked
away to join Jack at the dock.
"What a good boy!" murmured Mrs. Thompson. "Oh, I hope he grows
up to be a good man!"
When Randy arrived at the dock he found himself alone. He brought
out the boat and cleaned it up and got the oars. He was all ready for