The High School Boys' Fishing Trip Part 15

"The trolling part of the job merely looks easy," Tom went on, good-humoredly. "The fellow who is doing the fisherman act must have all the brains, while the fellow at the oars may be a real dolt, for all he has to know. I'll take you out with me after black ba.s.s, Danny, if we can get hold of a boat one of these days."

"Who'll do the rowing?" asked Dalzell suspiciously.

"Naturally you will," was Reade's answer.

"Can't we find a boat somewhere about here?" asked Hazelton eagerly.

"I haven't seen one on any part of the lake that is visible from here," Prescott put in. "I don't know why, but this so called second lake doesn't seem to be a popular spot. There isn't a house to be seen anywhere along the sh.o.r.e on either side, and I doubt if there's a boat on this sheet of water."

"I don't believe there is a boat, either---and just look at that!"

cried Reade, as three distinct splashes about an eighth of a mile out showed how frequently the ba.s.s were leaping.

"It's tough---not to have a chance at good sport!" declared Dave Darrin impatiently. "We fellows ought to search this old sh.o.r.e, anyway, to see if we can't find some sort of craft."

"Come along, then!" urged Tom, leaping to his feet. "I can't stand this state of affairs much longer. Look at that, out there.

Four ba.s.s jumping within fifteen seconds. This is cruelty to fishermen!"

"Tom, you take Dan and Harry, and go up along the sh.o.r.e," proposed d.i.c.k. "I'll take the others with me, and we'll go down along the sh.o.r.e. Each party will walk and search for half an hour, and then return, unless we find a boat sooner."

"Aren't you going to leave someone to watch the camp?" asked Danny Grin.

"It is hardly necessary," decided Prescott.

"But Bert Dodge-----" suggested Greg.

"For Dodge to be out here so early he'd have to be up by five in the morning, and make an early start," d.i.c.k rejoined. "I don't believe he's industrious enough for that."

"The camp will be all right," Dave agreed.

"Of course," Tom a.s.sented. "Anyway, there's nothing here worth stealing that would be small enough to carry away."

"Except the food," hinted Danny Grin.

"This is too far off the main roads for tramps to come this way,"

d.i.c.k replied.

So Dalzell, with a sigh, rose to accompany Reade and Hazelton.

d.i.c.k and his two companions thoroughly explored the sh.o.r.e as far as they went on the lower part of the lake. From time to time Prescott consulted his watch. In all the time that they were out they pa.s.sed only one building, a tumble-down, weather-beaten shack that looked as though it had not been inhabited in twenty years. Not even a vestige of a craft was found.

"It's time to go back," said d.i.c.k at last. "Too bad we couldn't find anything."

"There must have been boats on this lake at one time," hinted Dave, "or else there wouldn't be that broken-down old pier near the camp."

"I guess there was a time when this lake was a fishing ground to supply the Gridley and other near-by markets," d.i.c.k went on.

"But, fellows, there's a curious thing about these fish markets that I don't know whether you've noticed. There are several fish stores in Gridley, and yet in all of them you couldn't buy a pound of fish except the kinds that are caught in salt water. I wonder if there are any fish markets in this part of the country that make a specialty of fresh-water fish?"

More slowly, d.i.c.k, Dave and Greg retraced their steps.

"Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!" signaled d.i.c.k as they neared their camp.

From away up the sh.o.r.e the answering "hoo hoo!" came faintly.

"Tom didn't give up the search as easily as we did," commented Dave. "Poor old chap, he will be seriously disappointed if he hasn't found something that will float. He's the one sincere fisherman of the crowd, and the ba.s.s certainly have hypnotized him."

"Race you back to camp," offered d.i.c.k.

"Come back," laughed Dave, "and make a fair start."

But d.i.c.k kept on, laughing back at his distanced comrades. Prescott ran like a deer, as was to be expected from one who had played left end on the invincible Gridley High School eleven.

Just as he bounded on to the camp ground d.i.c.k's glance fell on a packing box some four feet long.

"This doesn't belong here," he muttered, bounding forward, then dropping on one knee beside the box.

In amazed wonder he read the following inscription, from a card tacked to the box:

"Will d.i.c.k Prescott accept the enclosed and keep it as trustee for d.i.c.k & Co.? From a most appreciative friend---two of them, in fact!"

"Now, what on earth can this be?" d.i.c.k demanded, as Dave reached his side.

Darry read the message on the card with growing wonder.

"Greg," directed d.i.c.k, "trot into the camp and get a hammer and the cold chisel. Hustle!"

Full of curiosity, Greg Holmes carried out the order at a run.

"Here you are!" panted Holmes.

d.i.c.k took the cold chisel, placed the edge against one side of the lid, and was about to strike the first blow when Darry s.n.a.t.c.hed the hammer from his hand.

"What ails you?" Prescott demanded.

"Suspicion," Dave replied dryly. "In fact, I've a bad case of suspiciousness."

"What are you talking about?" d.i.c.k insisted.

"I don't know," Dave admitted. "But I've something of a shivery hunch that perhaps we'd better not open that box."

"What, then? Toss it into the lake?"

"Even that might not be as foolish as it sounds to you," Darry went on. "How do we know what that box contains!"

"We never will know until we open it," declared Greg impatiently.

"And then we might be mighty sorry that we opened it," Dave continued.

"You think that there is something suspicious about the box?"