elawn. For it was here that the Silvey family lived,
and if Bill were his boon companion with tastes akin to his, strange to
relate, the Silvey elders were light sleepers with the same propensities
as his own parents for curbing unlawful fishing expeditions, and there
was need of caution.

He fumbled momentarily along the dark sidewall, yanked at a cord which
swayed idly to and fro with each light air current, and gazed
expectantly upward. Nothing happened. Again a jerk, given this time with
a certain vindictive delight. A muffled "Ouch!" came from the open
window as a splotch of animated white appeared indistinctly behind the
dark screen.

"Trying to pull my big toe off?" angrily.

John snickered. "Got the worms?" he asked.

Silvey swallowed his wrath and nodded. "Sh-sh, not so loud. You'll wake
the folks. The can's on the back steps. Ain't many worms though. I
hunted under the porch and down the tracks and all over. But the
ground's too dry."

John shook the nearly empty can disparagingly as Silvey joined him on
the back lawn a moment later.

"Jiminy," he whispered, "that all you could find?"

His chum nodded. "Maybe there's old worms or minnies from yesterday left
on the pier. Or we can cut up the first fish for perch bait. Come on!
Beat you over the tracks."

They scaled the wire fence which barricaded the embankment, and cut
across the long parallel lines of rails like frisky colts. Past the few
unkempt buildings of the neighborhood dairy, over the small bit of
pasturage where the master thereof kept a dozen cows that his customers
might think their milk was fresh, daily, and across the cement road,
they scampered at top speed, to pull up panting just inside the park.

"Bet you I get to the lagoon bridge first," said Silvey when their
breathing grew less labored.

Off they raced again, now on the trim gravel walks, now on the springy
dew-laden turf, frightening a myriad of insects from their shelters as
the pair brushed aside protruding shrubbery and brought a chorus of
reproof from rusty-plumed grackles who were gathering in the open spaces
for the long migration south.

As their footsteps echoed and re-echoed between the stone buttresses of
the wooden planked bridge, John halted to dig frantically at his shoe
top.

"Wait a minute, Sil. My heel's full of cinders."

He shook the offending boot free of the irritants, relaced it and leaned
over the bridge rail for a moment. From beneath, northward, s