Randy of the River Part 3

"Here, right beside the pool."

"Then somebody has been here and taken our fish!"

"Exactly what I believe."

Jack began to examine the key ring and then he uttered another exclamation:

"Here are some initials on the ring."

"What are they?"

"I can't make out very well--they are so worn. I think the first is R."

"Let me see."

Jack pa.s.sed the find over and Randy examined it.

"I can make it out," said Randy. "R. A. B."

"Robert A. Bangs!" shouted Jack.

"Bob Bangs!" murmured Randy. "Could he have been mean enough to come here and take some of our fish?"

"It certainly looks that way."

"Let us go after him and find out."

"All right. Anyway, we can make him explain how his key ring got here."

Taking what was left of the fish, the two boys hurried back to the rowboat and soon each was seated at an oar and pulling a good stroke in the direction of the town.

"He must have been watching us fish," observed Jack. "And he must have seen us place our catch in the pool."

"And took our best fish because he couldn't catch any of his own,"

concluded Randy. "Well, if he has my fish he has got to give them up,"

he added, with determination.

Rowing at a good rate of speed, it did not take the boys long to reach the town. As they moved past one dock after another they looked for Bob Bangs, but the big youth was nowhere in sight.

"I reckon he was afraid of being followed," said Jack.

"There is his boat," answered Randy, and pointed to the craft, which was tied up near an old boathouse and not at the regular Bangs dock.

While the two boys rested on their oars an old man who was lame, and who rented out boats for a living, came from the old boathouse. "Hullo, Isaac!" called out Jack. "Have you seen Bob Bangs around here?"

"Why, yes; he just went ash.o.r.e," answered Isaac Martin.

"Did he have any fish?"

"Yes, a nice string--some pretty big ones, too."

"How many?"

"Seven or eight."

"Which way did he go?"

"Up Samson Street."

"That's the back way to his house," cried Randy. "Come on!"

"What shall we do with our fish and the boat?"

"Let Isaac take care of them."

"Want me to take care of things, eh?" said the lame boatman. "Very well, I'll do it."

The two boys were soon on the way, on a run. They knew about the route Bob Bangs would take to get home and came in sight of the big boy just as he was entering his father's garden by a rear gate.

"Stop, Bob!" called out Randy.

The big boy looked around hastily and was much chagrined to see the others so close at hand. He held his string of fish behind him.

"What do you want?" he demanded, as they came closer.

"You know well enough what we want," returned Jack. "We want our fish."

"Your fish? Who has got your fish?" bl.u.s.tered Bob.

"You've got them," retorted Randy, and made a s.n.a.t.c.h at the string. The big boy held fast and a regular tug of war ensued.

"Let go!"

"I won't!"

"You shall!"

"See here, Bob," interposed Jack. "It won't do you any good to hang on.

Those are our fish and we want them."

"Bah! How do you know they are your fish?"

"Because you took them from the pool in which we placed them."

"I did not."

"You did."