nine o'clock
He picked out the best boat on the beach for them , loaned them his own anchor of railroad iron , indicated minutely the point on the opposite shore off which the last big trout had been `` killed , '' and wetted himself to his ankles as he pushed off the boat . Condy took the oars . Blix sat in the stern , jointing the rods and running the lines through the guides . She even baited the hooks with the salt shrimp herself , and by nine o'clock they were at anchor some forty feet off shore , and fishing , according to Richardson 's advice , `` a leetle mite off the edge o ' the weeds . '' `` If we do n't get a bite the whole blessed day , '' said Condy , as he paid out his line to the ratchet music of the reel , `` we 'll have fun just the same . Look around -- is n't this great ? '' They were absolutely alone .