Washburn, who lived about half a mile down the road. Mr. Washburn was a retired professor who spent most of his free time fishing—when he wasn’t hanging out and drinking coffee at the Mini-Mart. “Afternoon, kids!” Mr. Washburn called. “Oh,” Bobby said, and looked disappointed. “I mean, hi, Mr. Washburn.” Mr. Washburn was leaning against the bridge with his fishing pole in both hands, as he cast his line. Zachary wagged his tail, and nosed at the big red plastic bucket next to Mr. Washburn. Emily could smell fish, but the scent was so incredibly strong that she assumed it was Zack’s sensation, not her own. It must be pretty intense to have such a strong sense of smell all the time! Emily wasn’t sure if she would like it. “Have you caught much?” she asked. Mr. Washburn shook his head. “Enough to cook up for some supper, maybe, but that’s about it. Been pretty quiet out here.” He grinned. “Of course, it’s really always quiet around here.” Emily knew Bobby was dying to ask if Mr.
