things soft just now? Want to go fishing, Ikey?" Ikey favored his
friend with a sly wink, but only said crisply:

"I don't know about it. I was going to wash the store windows. Where are
Whistler and Torry going?"

"As far as Blue Reef. They say the bass are schoolin' out there."

"They'd better be on the lookout for subs, as far out as the Reef," Ikey
said solemnly. "I don't believe they've got this coast half patrolled.
We don't often see one of those chasers in the cove here."

"Mebbe we'll catch a submarine instead of bass," remarked Frenchy.

"You petter go along mit your friends in dot catboat, Ikey," said Mr.
Rosenmeyer, who was listening with both ears and his eyes wide open. "If
there iss one of them German submarines in dese waters idt shouldt be
known yet. Ain't that right?"

"Yes. We'd have to report it, Papa, to the naval authorities," admitted
Ikey seriously.

"Vell, you go right along den," urged his father. "Nefer mindt yet de
winders. I can get a winder washer easy."

"Well, if you don't mind, Papa," said Ikey, with commendable hesitancy.

"Come along, Ikey," urged Frenchy under his breath. "And be sure you
bring along your submarine tackle--I mean your bass rod," and he rolled
out of the store, chuckling to himself.

"Undt take a lunch, Ikey!" cried Mr. Rosenmeyer after his son. "Ham,
undt bologna, undt cheese, undt there's some fine dill pickles----"

"Oh, my!" groaned his son. "No dill pickles."

He joined Frenchy in a few minutes with a basket crammed with things to
eat, as well as his fishing tackle. It was not far to Bridger's float,
off which the twenty-four-foot catboat, _Sue Bridger_, was moored.

Ikey remarked: "Sometimes I almost faint when I see the change in papa.
He never wanted me to have a bit of fun before. He didn't have no fun
when he was a boy. He always worked. That is the German way, he says.

"But he don't have any use for _any_thing German now--not even the way
they bring up children."

"Ain't it a fact?" chuckled Frenchy. "Me mother makes the kids git up
and give me the best chair when I come into the sitting room.

'Git up out o' that,
Ye impident brat!
An' let Mr. M'Ginnis sit down.'

That's the way she treats me. Me head's gettin' that swelled I couldn't
draw a watch cap down over me ears."

The exhaust of the auxiliary engine of the catboat was spitting when
Frenchy hailed their mates. Whistler was loosening the points