Truxton started. This was no place for him! The Prince had a right to poach on his own preserves, but a grown man to be caught in the act of landing the royal goldfish was not to be thought of. He hung back.
"I'm afraid I won't have time, your Highness. A friend is waiting for me back there. He--"
"It's right here," pleaded the Prince. "Please stop a moment. I--I don't know how to put the bait on the pin. I just want to catch a couple. They won't bite unless there's worms on the hook. I tried 'em. Look at 'em! Goodness, there's lots of 'em. Nobody can see us here. Please, mister, fix a worm for me."
The man sat down behind a bush and laughed joyously. The eager, appealing look in the lad's eyes went to his heart. What was a goldfish or two? A fish has no feeling--not even a goldfish. There was no resisting the boyish eagerness.
"Why, you're a real boy, after all. I thought being a prince might have spoiled you," he said.
"Uncle Jack says I can always be a prince, but I'll soon get over being a boy," said Prince Bobby sagely. "You will fix it, won't you?"
King nodded, conscienceless now. The Prince scurried behind a big rock and reappeared at once with a willow branch from the end of which dangled a piece of thread. A bent pin occupied the chief end in view. He unceremoniously shoved the branch into the hands of his confederate, and then produced from one of his pockets a silver cigarette box, which he gingerly opened to reveal to the gaze a conglomerate mass of angle worms and grubs.
"A fellow gets awful dirty digging for worms, doesn't he?" he pronounced.
"I should say so," agreed the big boy. "Whose cigarette case is this?"
"Uncle Caspar's--I mean Count Halfont's. He's got another, so he won't miss this one. I'm going to leave some worms in it when I put it back in his desk. He'll think the fairies did it. Do you believe in fairies?"
"Certainly, Peter," said Truxton, engaged in impaling a stubborn worm.
"My name isn't Peter," said the Prince coldly.
"I was thinking of Peter Pan. Ever hear of him?"
"No. Say, you mustn't talk or you'll scare 'em away. Is it fixed?" He took the branch and gingerly dropped the hook into the dancing pool. In less time than it requires to tell it he had a nibble, a bite and a catch. There never was a boy so excited as he when the scarlet nibbler flew into the shrubbery above; he gasped with glee. Truxton recovered the catch from the bushes and coolly detached the truculent pin.