I wondered which one that was, and found out when Arthur Hastings began taking his rod from its case. It was a beautiful rod, and looked strong enough to handle any fish that was likely to be encountered in that country; but the second joint was broken close to the ferrule. I looked pityingly at him, little dreaming that I was destined to go home in the same crippled condition.
"I don't believe that any bass that ever wiggled a fin could break that rod," said Arthur, dolefully. "Matt or some of his vagabond band must have caught the hook into a log or the stem of a lily-pad. Well, it isn't as bad as it might be, but I hate to think that that squatter has made some money out of me."
While the boys were waiting for the guide who had promised to come down and look at the skiff, they talked of their interview with the landlord of the Sportsman's Home, and in that way I came to know just what happened when they went up to see the rods he had purchased of Jake Coyle. Of course they recognized them at once, and promptly handed over
