“I’ve never seen any of these fishermen catch a fish yet,” said Bets, stopping by one.
“Sh!” said the fisherman angrily, and Bets went away, alarmed.
“You’ll frighten away the fish he doesn’t catch,” said Pip with a laugh. “For goodness sake don’t go and disturb a fisherman again!”
They passed two labourers in a field, and then came to Frinton Lea. They looked about expectantly for a heavily disguised Fatty. Was he anywhere about?
At first they could see nobody—and then, sitting in a little boat, not far from the bank, was a hunched-up figure, silently fishing. He had on most extraordinary clothes.
His hat was a large cloth cap with a rather loud check pattern. His scarf was a curious sickly green. His coat was very tight blue alpaca, and he wore red braces that showed in front where the coat fell open.
The children stared at his peculiar figure. It took one look at them and then glanced away.
“There’s Fatty!” said Pip. “But what a get-up! It’s not so much a disguise as a fancy-dress. What’s he thinking of to dress like that!”
“He must have got some reason for it,” said Daisy. “Fatty never does anything without a reason. What braces!”
“Did you see his face when he looked round at us?” said Larry with a laugh. “Fierce eyebrows and a fierce moustache, and he must have got his cheek-pads in again, his face looks so fat.”
“I do wish he would look at us properly,” said Bets, who simply couldn’t recognize Fatty at all.
“Don’t be silly,” said Pip. “He hopes we shan’t recognize him, the goof.”
Still the fisherman in the boat didn’t look in their direction. He fished stolidly. Then he coughed.
“Jolly good cough,” said Pip in a loud voice. The fisherman took no notice.
“Pssssssst!” Larry said to him, and still he didn’t so much as turn his head. Any ordinary fisherman would certainly have lost his temper by now and ordered them away. It was most decidedly Fatty.
“Don’t be goofy!” called Pip in a low voice.
“We’ve spotted you!” said Daisy, also keeping her Voice low. “It was easy!”
The fisherman obstinately refused to look in their direction. After a little more “Pssssssting” and attempts to make him turn round, the four gave it up.
“We’ll walk home and come back afterwards,” said Larry. “It’s getting late. Fatty’s an ass.”
They walked home, had their lunches and came back again. Perhaps Fatty would be more amenable this afternoon.
“The boat’s gone,” said Daisy. “Oh no—look, it’s there by the bank. And the fisherman is sitting on the grass, eating his lunch. Now we can get him to talk!”
They went up to him and sat down solemnly. He took a hurried look at them and then swallowed a mouthful so quickly that he choked.
“Bad luck,” said Larry, sympathetically. “Caught many fish?”
“No,” said the fisherman in a strangled sort of voice. He got up suddenly and went to his boat.
“Pssst!” said Larry. The fisherman clambered hurriedly into his boat, making it rock up and down. Larry was about to go to his help, meaning to whisper a few stinging remarks into Fatty’s ear, when Bets caught hold of him and pulled him back. He looked down at her in surprise.
She looked up at him and shook her head, her eyes wide and frightened. She nodded towards the fisherman’s boots. They were enormous—and so were his hairy hands!
Larry stopped with a jerk. Gosh—it wasn’t Fatty after all! Of course it wasn’t. Who was it then? And why had he behaved so queerly?
“Big feet—enormous hands!” whispered Bets. “It’s the thief! It is, Larry—it must be! That’s why he’s tried to shake us off. He’s afraid we’re on his track.”
The fisherman had pushed off into the river again. He sat now with his back to the children, hunched up as before. They gazed at him silently. How could they possibly have thought he was Fatty?
“What are we to do?” asked Daisy in a low voice. “We ought to tell Fatty. But where is he? Is he somewhere near—in disguise? We can’t let the thief go now we’ve found him! Where is Fatty? I simply can’t see him anywhere!”
Telephone Call To Goon
Larry thought hard. He was the head of the Five when Fatty was not there. What was the best thing to do?
“If only we could spot Fatty!” he groaned. “I’ll tell you what we’d better do. Pip, you and Bets stay here and keep an eye on the thief. Daisy and I will wander about a bit and see if we can spot Fatty. He said he’d be within fifty yards of Frinton Lea, so he will be.”
“Right,” said Pip, and he and Bets settled down on the grassy bank. The other two walked off down the path. The fisherman heard their footsteps and turned cautiously round to see who it was.
“See him look round?” whispered Bets. “He hoped we’d gone! Then I bet he was going to row to the shore and escape.”
It was rather dull sitting and watching the fisherman. He didn’t catch a single fish. He just sat there with his rod, seemingly asleep.
But he wasn’t. He suddenly gave a nasty hollow cough. Bets clutched Pip.
“Did you hear that? I’m sure it’s the thief, now. He coughed just like a sheep barking—just like Mrs. Williams said he did. I wish he’d do it again.”
He didn’t. He slumped back in the boat and appeared to be asleep. But he wasn’t, because whenever anyone came by he turned and gave a quick look.
Not many people came by, however. The postman cycled by with some letters. The telegraph boy came once, whistling loudly as he turned in at Frinton Lea. The fisherman turned to give him a quick look, and the children eyed him well too, wondering if he could possibly be Fatty. But he wasn’t. He was too thin. There was only one thing about himself that Fatty could not hide—his plumpness!
A nursemaid came by with a pram, and then the little baker appeared with his basket of bread. He had had to leave his van a good way away because there was no road right down to the river, only a path.
He recognized Pip and Bets, as he walked up with his cocky little stride. “Hallo, hallo, hallo!” he said in his high, sparrow-like voice. “Here we are again! How many loaves today, Mister? Caught any thieves yet?”
Pip thought it was silly of the baker to talk to him as if he was about six years old. He merely jerked his head at him and turned away. But the baker was not to be put off.
He came up and gazed at the fisherman in the boat. “There’s a nice easy job!” he chattered on. “Sitting in the sun with water lapping all round you, having a nap away from everyone else. Nobody to disturb you. No heavy basket to carry. My, why aren’t I a fisherman?”
The fisherman had already turned his head once to glance at the baker. Now he took no notice. The baker called out to him.
“Hey, there! Caught any fish?”
The fisherman did not turn round. “Not yet!” he said in a curious deep voice.
The baker stood and talked away to Pip and Bets, but they took as little notice of him as the fisherman. They thought he was silly. He went at last, carrying his basket of bread through the gate of Frinton Lea.
“Silly little idiot,” said Pip. “He’s too big for his boots. He’s got such a high opinion of himself that he just can’t see he’s a nuisance.”
“Well, let’s move a little way off till he comes out again and goes,” said Bets, so they got up and walked in the opposite direction. The baker soon came out, gave them a wave and strutted off on his spindly legs to his van.
“I wonder how Larry and Daisy are getting on,” said Bets. “I hope they’ve found Fatty. It’s maddening not to have him just at this important moment.”
Larry and Daisy had wandered all round Frinton Lea, but they hadn’t seen Fatty. They had felt sure they had got him once—when they had seen a woman sitting on a stool, painting a picture of the river. She was rather big and had untidy hair and a hat that hid her face. Daisy nudged Larry.
“That’s Fatty, surely! See—that woman painting. It would be a fine way of sitting and watching a house—to pretend to be an artist.”
“Yes. It might be Fatty,” said Larry. “We’ll stroll over and see.”
The woman looked up at them as they came and stood beside her. At once Daisy and Larry knew she was not Fatty. Her nose was far too small. Fatty could make his nose bigger—but he certainly couldn’t make it smaller!