The Go Ahead Boys in the Island Camp Part 2

After what seemed a long time they came to the end of the island. Here the forest gave way to the rocks which ran out a considerable distance, forming a small peninsula. At the tip end were several big boulders which had become separated from the main island after long years of action by the water and in order to reach them it was necessary to jump across several feet from one to the other. Towards these boulders the three boys made their way.

"I don't see anybody," panted John.

"Nor I," agreed Fred. "I don't hear anything, either."

"Listen," warned Grant, holding up his hand.

"And look, too," murmured Fred under his breath.

Suddenly John started forward excitedly. "Look," he cried, "there he is."

"Where? Where?" demanded Grant.

"Down there in the water. Don't you see him?"

"Help! Help!" came the call, and John, Fred and Grant sped to the a.s.sistance of their comrade. His head showed above the water and he splashed a great deal in an effort to remain afloat. That he was very rapidly becoming weaker, however, was plain to be seen.

"Give me a hand, somebody," cried George.

"All right, Pop. We'll be right with you," Grant rea.s.sured him.

George was struggling in the water close to one of the big boulders. Its sides were so steep and high, however, that he was unable to climb out.

From his actions it also appeared as if he were keeping himself afloat merely with his hands.

"Get a stick, Grant," cried Fred. "You can hold it out for him to take hold of."

"Where is one? Find one, quick!" exclaimed Grant excitedly.

"Here you are," said John. "This one will do. Take this."

He held out a stick some six or eight feet long which had been lying on the sh.o.r.e at his feet. Grant seized it eagerly and hastened to George's a.s.sistance.

"Hurry up, Grant!" called George. "I can't last much longer!"

"Here you are!" cried Grant, leaning out from the sh.o.r.e as far as he dared and holding the stick toward his friend. "Grab hold of this."

After one or two unsuccessful attempts George succeeded in catching hold of the stick. Grant drew him up as close to the rock as possible and then Fred and John bending down over the edge seized him by his arms and quickly pulled him out of the water and to safety.

"How did you happen to-" began Fred, when John suddenly interrupted him.

"What have you got around your legs?" he demanded in astonishment.

"My fishing line," said George, smiling weakly. "It tripped me up."

"Well, I should think it might," exclaimed John. "How in the world did you ever get it wound around you like that?"

"I had my rod in one hand," said George, "and I tried to jump from that rock over there to this one. I landed here all right, but when I jumped the line got twisted around my ankles and I lost my balance. It finally tripped me up and I fell into the water. When I got there the line kept getting more and more tangled up the harder I kicked, until finally I could hardly move my feet at all. I had to keep afloat just by using my hands."

"That was certainly a bright trick," exclaimed Fred. "Why, you might have drowned."

"I thought I was going to be," said George grimly. "I was getting pretty tired."

"Where's your rod?" inquired Fred.

"At the other end of the line. A steel rod doesn't float, you know."

"That's true," laughed Fred. "Haul in that line, John."

Of course all the line unrolled from the reel before the rod was rescued but it was finally brought safely to sh.o.r.e. A large section of the line, however, had to be sacrificed as it was found almost impossible to untangle the ma.s.s that had wound itself around George's legs and ankles, and a knife was necessary to free him.

"Where are your fish, Pop?" inquired Fred. "I suppose you dropped them all when you fell in," and he nudged Grant as he spoke.

"I had only one," replied George ruefully. "He did fall in and I lost him."

"What kind was it?"

"A black ba.s.s."

"A big one, I suppose."

"No, he wasn't either. He was pretty small. I didn't have any luck at all."

"You ought to have taken one of the canoes," said Grant. "You can't expect to catch anything from the sh.o.r.e."

"He'd probably upset the canoe," said Fred. "I don't think we should allow him to do anything alone after this."

"Huh!" was George's only reply to this sally.

"Feel like walking, Pop?" asked Grant. "If you do we'd better go back to camp and get some dry clothes for you."

"I was just thinking that," said George. "I'm commencing to feel chilly.

These nights in the Adirondacks are pretty cool, I find."

"They certainly are," John agreed. "Let's go back."

"I could eat something, too," remarked Fred. "The cool air also seems to give you an appet.i.te."

"Come on," cried Grant, and a moment later the four young campers were retracing their steps to the tent.

Arriving there, George made haste to change his wet garments for some dry ones. Fred and John collected wood for the fire while Grant made ready to cook the dinner. A short time later the odor of sizzling bacon filled the air, lending an even keener edge to four appet.i.tes that were sharp already. The first meal in camp was voted a great success by every member of the party, and all agreed that Grant was a wonderful cook.

"Isn't this great!" exclaimed George, when the dishes had all been washed.

The four young friends were seated around a camp-fire crowned by a great birch log that blazed so brightly it lighted up everything for a considerable distance round about them.

"It surely is," agreed John. "I don't see how you could beat this."

"Just think of it," said Fred. "We're here for all summer, too."