"No. I'd be glad to give 'em to you. And here's some grasshoppers I
didn't use. They'll be good to fish with to-morrow."
"Thanks," said Bert, as he took the tin box Will held out. Inside
could be heard a queer little "ticking" noise, as the grasshoppers
leaped up against the cover.
"Say, these are sure some fine fish!" exclaimed Will.
"Oh, you'll catch just as nice ones to-morrow," the country boy said.
"I'll have to run now, or I'll be late at the farm."
"Good-bye!" called Bert and Harry as Will hurried off along the edge
of the creek. "See you to-morrow, maybe."
Will had no idea that he would see his friends then. He knew he had a
hard day's work in prospect for the next day--weeding a large patch of
onions that were so far away from the creek that he would have no
chance, even at his noon hour, of going down to the water for a cool
little swim.
Will did not know what queer things were going to happen to him very
soon, nor did any of the Bobbseys realize what a part they were to
play in the life of poor, friendless Will Watson.
"He's a nice boy, isn't he?" asked Harry of Bert, as they turned back
toward the boat, with their fish and bait.
"Yes, I like him a lot. It's too bad he has to work so hard on the
farm."
"Yes, it sure is."
Talking of the luck they expected to have the next day, fishing, the
cousins soon reached the Bluebird.
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