"She did make the other wan do that same. But the new one can't iron an' won't try, so I have the work, an' the girrul gits less wages," answered the Irishwoman.

When Randy returned home he found supper almost ready. The appetizing odor of frying fish filled the air. A few minutes later Mr. Thompson came in.

Louis Thompson was a man a little past middle age, tall and thin and not unlike Randy in the general appearance of his face. He was not a strong man, and the winter before had been laid up with a severe attack of rheumatism.

"That smells good," he said, with a smile, as he kissed his wife. "I like fish."

"Randy just caught them."

"Good enough."

"You look tired, Louis," went on Mrs. Thompson. "Was the work extra hard?"

"Not much harder than usual, Lucy, but I was working on a cellar partition and it was very damp. It brought back a bit of the rheumatism."

"That is too bad."

"Can't the boss give you something else to do—something where it isn't damp?" questioned Randy.

"I have asked him about it," answered his father. "But just at present there is nothing else in sight."

"You must take care, Louis," said Mrs. Thompson. "It will not do to risk having the rheumatism come back."

"I wish I could get something to do," said Randy, while the evening meal was in progress. "I might earn some money and it would help. But there doesn't seem to be any kind of an opening in Riverport."

"Times are rather dull," answered Mr. Thompson. "And I am afraid they will be worse before they are better."

On the following day Randy went out after blackberries. Jack went with him and the boys went up the stream in the latter's boat.

"If I can get a good mess mother is going to preserve some," said Randy.

"I like blackberry jam," answered his friend.

The two boys had brought their lunch with them, intending to remain out all day. By noon they had picked twelve quarts of berries and then sat down by the river side to eat their lunch.

"What do you say to a swim?" remarked Jack, after the meal was over.

"Just the thing!" cried our hero. "But we mustn't remain in longer than half an hour. I want to pick more berries."

They were soon in the water, which was deliciously cool and refreshing. They dove and splashed around to their hearts' content and raced from one bank to the other and back. Randy won the race by several seconds.

"I declare, Randy, you are a regular water rat!" declared Jack. "I never saw a better swimmer."

"Well, I do love the water, that is certain," answered Randy.

"And you row such a good stroke, too."

"That's because I love boats."

The half-hour at an end, our hero leaped ashore and began to don his garments, and Jack did the same. They were just finishing their toilet when a rowboat came into view, containing Bob Bangs and several other of the loud boys of Riverport.

"There is Bob Bangs again," whispered Randy.

"We'll have to watch out that he doesn't try to rob us of our berries," whispered Jack, significantly.

"Humph! Up here again, eh?" remarked the big youth, resting on his oars.

"We are," answered Randy. "I think we can come, if we please."

"Certainly—for all I care," growled Bob.

"We are picking berries, and we intend to watch them, too," put in Randy, loudly.

At this pointed remark Bob Bangs colored slightly.

"I should think you'd pick your company, Jack Bartlett," he said, coarsely.

"I do. That is why I am not with you."

"Humph!"

"I consider myself just as good as you, Bob Bangs," said Randy, warmly. "I may not be as rich, but I never tried to steal a mess of fish from anybody."

"You shut up!" roared the big boy. And then he started to row away.

"You'll not get a chance to rob us of these berries," called out Jack after him.

"What do they mean about robbing somebody of fish?" asked one of Bob's companions.

"Oh, that was only a joke," answered the rich youth. "Just wait—I'll fix them for it!"

As soon as Bangs and his cronies had disappeared Randy and Jack went back to their berry picking. They worked steadily until five o'clock in the afternoon, and by that time had a great number of quarts to their credit.

"The folks at home will be pleased," said Jack. "My mother loves fresh berries. She says they are much better than those which are several days in the market."

"And she is right."

The boys had brought along several large and small kettles, and had left three of these down near the boat, filled with the fruit. Each walked to the shore with a kettle full of berries in his hand.

"Well, I never!" cried Jack, in dismay.

"Bob Bangs again!" murmured Randy. "Oh, don't I just wish I had him here. I'd pummel him good!"

There was good cause for our hero's anger. On the rocks lay the overturned berry kettles, the berries scattered in all directions and many of them crushed under foot.

"And look at the boat!" gasped Jack, turning to inspect the craft.

The rowboat was partly filled with water and on the seats and in the bottom a quantity of mud had been thrown. The oars were sticking in a mud bank close by.

"Does she leak?" asked our hero, with concern.

"I'll have to find out."

It was soon discovered that the craft was intact, and then they set to work to clean up the muss. This was no easy job, and the boys perspired freely, for the day was a warm one. Then Randy looked over the scattered berries.

"About one-third of them are fit to take along," he said. "The others are crushed and dirty."

"I'll tell you what I am going to do," said Jack, stoutly. "I am going to make Bob Bangs pay for dirtying my boat, and he can pay for the lost berries, too."

"But how can we prove he is guilty?"

"We'll make him own up to it. Nobody else would play such a mean trick."

The two boys were in no happy frame of mind as they rowed back to Riverport. They suspected that Bob Bangs would keep out of their sight, but just as they were landing they caught sight of him peering at them from behind a dock building.

"There he is!" cried Jack. "After him, Randy!"

"Right you are!" answered our hero, and ran after Bob Bangs with might and main. Randy was a good sprinter and although the rich youth tried to get away he was soon brought to a halt.

"Let go of me!" he roared, as Randy caught him by the collar.

"Not just yet, Bob Bangs!" returned Randy. "A fine trick you played this afternoon."

"I didn't play any trick!"

"Yes, you did."

"I didn't! Let me go!" And now Bob Bangs did his best to get away. He saw that Randy and Jack were thoroughly angry and was afraid he was in for a drubbing—or worse. He gave a jerk and then started to run. Randy put out his foot and the big youth went sprawling full length, his face violently striking the ground.

CHAPTER V

THE RESULT OF A QUARREL

If any boy was ever humiliated it was Bob Bangs. His face and hands were covered with dust and so was his elegant suit of clothing, while the skin was cut on the side of his nose.

"Now, see what you have done!" he spluttered, gazing ruefully at himself. "My suit is just about ruined!"

"And it serves you right, Bob Bangs," came warmly from Jack.

"That is what you get for trying to run away," added our hero.

"I'll have the law on you, Randy Thompson!"

"Maybe I'll have the law on you, Bob Bangs!"

"You had no right to throw me down in that fashion."

"Then why did you start to run away?"

"Because I didn't want to stay here—and you had no right to stop me."

"We wanted to know about this berry affair," said Jack. "And about the dirty boat."

"I don't know what you are talking about," answered the big boy, but his face showed his concern.

"You put mud in my boat and spilled our berries."

"Who says I did that?"