The High School Boys' Fishing Trip Part 26

"It's much more interesting than standing here figuring on how to get ice that we don't need," retorted Darry.

"Now, as to moving this stuff to the camp," Tom went on, "it seems to me-----"

"Of course," laughed d.i.c.k. "It has already struck you that we can fell a few small trees and build a raft on which we can tow a few hundred pounds of ice at a time."

"Oh, pshaw!" fidgeted Dave. "I am anxious to find the man of mystery."

"That isn't anything practical," scoffed Tom Reade, "while in hot weather a good supply of ice is eminently practical."

"You'll think there's a practical side to the man of mystery and his cronies when to-night comes, and there's so much noise about the camp that we miss another night's rest," hinted Darry sagely.

"Humph!" was Tom's greeting to that a.s.sertion. "I don't know but you're right."

"Well, we know where the ice is," remarked d.i.c.k. "We can get it at our convenience. Darry, we'll follow you in pursuit of your man of mystery. Come out of here, fellows."

d.i.c.k led the way out of the cave, flashing the light as he walked.

All four blinked when they found themselves out in the sunlight.

"Now, which way are we going, David, little giant?" demanded Tom good-humoredly.

Now that he was put to it, Dave had to confess that he didn't know.

"Let's make a swift, thorough search all around here, and see if we can find any footprints not made by ourselves," Dave suggested rather weakly, at last.

This was done, and faithfully, for, now that they were out in the sunlight again, the interest in the mystery began to return.

It grew stronger as they searched. At last, however, after more than an hour of fruitless effort that offered not an atom of promise, even Darry was willing to give it up for the time, at any rate.

"Let's keep on walking along the slope, then," d.i.c.k suggested, "until we come in sight of the canoe."

As they walked along they came to a brook that, at this point, was nearly the width of a creek. The water ran noisily down over the stones, save here and there where there were deep pools.

"It's narrow enough, at one point below here, to jump over," Dave volunteered.

"Thank you," replied d.i.c.k, "but just at present I'm not for jumping over this brook."

"Well, then, what on earth does interest you?" Dan asked. "This isn't the first time you've seen this stream. You pa.s.sed it down by the lake, though down there it runs more smoothly."

"I know," d.i.c.k nodded. "I remember the fallen tree we used for a bridge, and I'm simply ashamed of myself that I didn't think more about this stream at the time---but my head was then too full of the lake mystery and the chap with the haunting face.

But now-----"

"Well?" demanded Tom impatiently.

"Reade, old fellow," d.i.c.k answered solemnly, turning back from peering at one of the quiet pools in the creek, "you're a wonder at black ba.s.s fishing, no doubt. My tastes ran to another form of sport. Mr. Morton taught me trout fishing; he lent me his tackle before we started, and I have it over at the camp now.

Fellows, I believe, from the looks of things, that this stream is well stocked with trout. At all events, I mean to have a try at it."

"To-morrow?" asked Dave.

"No, siree! This afternoon----just as soon as possible! A little while ago we were talking about ferrying ice over to the camp.

Instead, we'll ferry the camp over here, and keep the cave just as it is for our ice-house. Do you fellows know that brook trout make the most delicious eating to be had when the cook knows his business? I do, for Mr. Morton has cooked trout for me in the woods. Besides, brook trout are growing scarce these days. If we can make a good haul, we can get a pretty big price per pound for them! We have ice, now, and we could carry a lot of trout to market on our push cart, on top of enough ice to keep them.

Come on! Back to camp! We'll shift it to this side of the lake at once. This crowd can't do better than to work out this trout stream. I know the trout are there! I can smell 'em! Tom, I've got an important job for you!"

CHAPTER XIX

MORE MYSTERY IN THE AIR

It was nearly dark, after an afternoon of hard work for five members of the party, and an afternoon of wonderful sport for d.i.c.k Prescott.

A crude raft had been built. That part of the work had been easy, and it was swiftly performed. But three trips with the small raft had been needed to bring over the tent, the supplies, the push cart and everything belonging to the old camp.

Now the new camp stood pitched at a short distance from the cave, but near to the edge of the lake. The tent had been put up in a natural clearing, behind a line of timber, so that the canvas was not visible from the other side of the lake.

At trout fishing d.i.c.k had proved himself more than an expert.

Now that darkness was coming, d.i.c.k was bending over a low fire, watching a frying pan in which four speckled beauties, well dipped in batter, were sizzling merrily.

"This is the finest food I've ever had," declared Greg Holmes, swallowing another mouthful of trout and leaning back with a contented sigh.

"It certainly is great," agreed Dave Darrin. "Fellows, I've wasted some of my life in the past, for I never before knew the taste of brook trout."

"I tried 'em once," said Reade, "but they didn't taste as fine as these. With trout, I've heard, a tremendous lot depends upon the way they're cooked."

"Of course the cooking has a lot to do with bringing out the full flavor," d.i.c.k admitted modestly. "But, Tom, perhaps you hadn't done any hard work before eating trout that time. Exercise brings hunger, and hunger is the best sauce that food can have---as we all ought to know."

"Exercise?" repeated Tom, with a laugh. "Yes; I've had that this afternoon, all right. You had me guessing when you told me you had such an important job for me. I didn't know, then, that you wanted me to boss the raft building and transporting the camp over here. It was exercise, all right. We ought to have taken an entire day to it."

d.i.c.k rose with the frying pan, dropping hot trout on four plates in turn, omitting only Holmes.

"You shall have a trout out of the next serving, Greg," d.i.c.k promised.

"I'm not worrying about myself," Greg returned. "But are you going to have anything left for yourself, d.i.c.k?"

"I'm not worrying about that, either," laughed Prescott. "It was mighty nice of you fellows to do all the work this afternoon, and leave me to enjoy myself all the time at sport. So the trout belong to you fellows."

"I don't suppose you worked at all, d.i.c.k," said Tom quizzically.

"Of course whipping up and down a stream in rubber boots, over stones and all sorts of obstacles, isn't anything like work."

"It would be pretty hard work for a fellow who didn't like trout fishing, I suppose," d.i.c.k answered. "But, to me, it was only so much glorious sport. Here's your trout, Greg. Who else wants some more?"

"Don't ask foolish questions," chuckled Danny Grin.

But at last the five boys had to admit that they had eaten their fill out of the splendid result of d.i.c.k's afternoon of sport.

There were still several trout left, all cleaned and ready to be dipped in the batter.

"Now, you sit down at the table, and let us wait on you," urged Greg, going over to d.i.c.k.