“What sort of a boy is he?” inquired the latter, continuing the conversation which we have so unceremoniously broken off.

“I don’t know,” replied Harry.  “Some of the boys like him, but Ben.  Lake says he’s the biggest rascal in the village.  He’s got two or three guns, half a dozen fish-poles, and, by what I hear the boys say, he must be a capital sportsman.  But he tells the most ridiculous stories about what he has done.”

By this time Charles had almost reached them, and, when he came alongside, he rested on his oars and called out,

“Well, boys, how many fish have you caught?”

“So many,” answered George, holding up the string, which contained over a hundred perch and black-bass.  “Have you caught any thing?”

“Not much to brag of,” answered Charles; “I hooked up a few little perch just behind the point.  But that is a tip-top string of yours.”

“Yes, pretty fair,” answered Harry.  “You see we know where to go.”

“That does make some difference,” said Charles.  “But as soon as I know the good places, I’ll show you how to catch fish.”

“We will show you the good fishing-grounds any time,” said George.

“Oh, I don’t want any of your help.  I can tell by the looks of a place whether there are any fish to be caught or not.  But you ought to see the fishing-grounds we have in New York,” he continued.  “Why, many a time I’ve caught three hundred in less than half an hour, and some of them would weigh ten pounds.”

“Did you catch them with a hook and line?” inquired George.

“Of course I did!  What else should I catch them with?  I should like to see one of you trying to handle a ten or fifteen-pound fish with nothing but a trout-pole.”

“Could you do it?” inquired Harry, struggling hard to suppress a laugh.

“Do it?  I have done it many a time.  But is there any hunting around here?”

“Plenty of it.”

“Well,” continued Charles, “I walked all over the woods this morning, and couldn’t find any thing.”

“It is not the season for hunting now,” said George; “but in the fall there are lots of ducks, pigeons, squirrels, and turkeys, and in the winter the woods are full of minks, and now and then a bear or deer; and the swamps are just the places to kill muskrats.”

“I’d just like to go hunting with some of you.  I’ll bet I can kill more game in a day than any one in the village.”

The boys made no reply to this confident assertion, for the fact was that they were too full of laughter to trust themselves to speak.

“I’ll bet you haven’t got any thing in the village that can come up to this,” continued Charles; and as he spoke he raised a light, beautifully-finished rifle from the bottom of the boat, and held it up to the admiring gaze of the boys.

“That is a beauty,” said Harry, who wished to continue the conversation as long as possible, in order to hear some more of Charles’s “large stories.”  “How far will it shoot?”