The mill wheel was revolving slowly and they could hear the muffled sound of machinery within the building. Down by the pool they could see a lone figure moving about.
"I believe that's Lester!" exclaimed Joe.
"That's who it is, all right," agreed his brother, after a glance. "And he's fishing, too."
Lester was standing on the bank of the pool, a fishing rod in his hand. But he did not seem to be very enthusiastic about the sport, for there was little eagerness in his expression as he eyed the motionless float on top of the water.
Frank and Joe came slowly down the bank toward him, and he looked up at their approach. He recognized them immediately and a smile came over his face.
"Hello!" he said shyly.
"Hello, Lester," they greeted him. "Any luck?"
"None yet," admitted the lad. "I don't care for fishing, anyway."
"There's supposed to be plenty of fish in this pool," Frank told him.
Lester shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose so. I've caught quite a few. But when you haven't anything to do but fish all day long you don't care for it so much."
"Is that all you do?" asked Joe.
