The High School Boys' Fishing Trip Part 30

"We've seen the fellow before," d.i.c.k explained, "but he always fakes alarm and vanishes. We call him our man of mystery---the Man with the Haunting Face."

"Some poor, simple-minded fellow," suggested Dr. Bentley. "Probably one whose mild mania leads him to prefer to live in the woods, a regular hermit. My dears, I'm surprised that any of you should be so easily startled and make such noisy testimony to your alarm."

"I'm indignant with myself now---when there are men standing by,"

laughed Belle. "But I wish you had seen that man's strange face, Doctor."

"I would like to see it, and punch it, too!" muttered Dave.

"Not a bit of it!" objected Dr. Bentley heartily. "No doubt the poor fellow is sadly afflicted mentally. He's what the Arabs call a 'simple,' and the Arabs have a beautiful faith that all 'simples' are under the direct protection of Allah. So, woe to him who offends one of Allah's 'simples.'"

"How do you boys come to be here?" asked Laura.

"I might ask the same question of your party," smiled d.i.c.k. "As for us, we are away on a vacation fishing and camping trip."

"I knew you were going away," said Dr. Bentley, "but I didn't know just where. We are touring again, in my seven-pa.s.senger car. We are headed for the St. Clair Lake House, eight miles below here. But the roads are so bad that the chauffeur said it would take us more than an hour to get through. So I proposed to Mrs. Bentley and the girls that we leave the car at the road and cross over here to have our luncheon on the sh.o.r.e of this second lake. I have been here before, and remember it as a beautiful spot. Mrs. Bentley and the girls started on ahead, and I brought up the rear with the baskets of food. But they got further ahead of me than I thought. Now I must go back after the baskets, which I set down before I started to run here. Greg, will you go back with me and help me bring the baskets?"

Greg at once accompanied the physician. When they came to the spot, however, they found but one basket, and that nearly empty.

The second basket had disappeared altogether.

"Fine!" grunted Dr. Bentley. "Greg, our committee of two must go back and report the disquieting news."

"Not so very disquieting, sir," smiled young Holmes. "We have a camp full of food to offer you."

That invitation d.i.c.k and Dave very quickly seconded when the doctor rejoined the party.

"Especially if you can eat trout, sir," d.i.c.k went on.

"Don't! Don't be cruel!" remonstrated Dr. Bentley. "I used to eat trout when I was a boy, but they are now an extinct fish."

"Are they, sir?" inquired d.i.c.k, unwrapping a paper from around part of the morning's heavy catch, while Dave exhibited the contents of a similar bundle.

Dr. Bentley rubbed his eyes.

"Bless me, these are a fine imitation of brook trout as I recall them," he murmured.

"What did you mean by saying that trout were an extinct fish?"

asked Laura.

"They're extinct for all but the wealthy," replied the physician.

"Brook trout, in these days, generally cost all of a dollar and a half a pound, and I've heard of as high as two dollars a pound being paid for them."

"There are plenty hereabouts, just now," d.i.c.k replied. "But we may take them all out of the water before we move from here."

"Of course," nodded Laura's father. "That's what trout are for.

They won't do anyone any good as long as they remain in the water."

"Let's hurry back, please," urged d.i.c.k. "I am anxious to see your luncheon under way."

"Yes," teased Belle, "the sooner you have satisfied our appet.i.tes the sooner you may expect to see us gone and be able to enjoy yourselves and your comfortable solitude once more."

"Now, just for saying that, Belle," uttered d.i.c.k reproachfully, "I'm going to consider the revenge of burning two of your trout in the pan."

"Mercy!" cried Belle Meade. "Are you going to cook the trout?"

"After you've eaten a trout cooked and served up by d.i.c.k Prescott,"

Dave declared, "you won't want them cooked by anyone else. d.i.c.k is the one trout chef in this part of the country."

"Where did he learn?" teased Belle with a pretense of suspicion.

"Mr. Morton---Coach Morton, of our high school eleven---taught d.i.c.k how to do it," Dave explained.

"Right here, young ladies---attention!" called Dr. Bentley, holding up a warning finger. "If brook trout are as fine eating as they used to be when I was a boy, then you simply won't be able to keep it a secret that you've eaten some recently. Yet on one point I must insist. None of you must be dishonorable enough to name any spot within fifty miles of here as the scene of your trout luncheon. If you let the secret out all the trout fishermen in four counties will be swarming here to destroy all the fun your young men friends are having. So, please remember! Utter, dark, uncompromising secrecy!"

"Is it as bad as that?" asked Belle.

"Every real trout fisherman knows enough to keep his own secrets as to the streams that contain trout," Dave nodded.

By this time they came within sight of the camp. Nor was it long before Tom, Dan and Harry caught sight of the visitors and ran forward to meet them.

"Our friends have come just in time to have a trout feast," d.i.c.k announced.

"I shall be jealous if they eat the trout," Tom retorted.

"Or envious?" laughed Belle.

"No; jealous," Tom a.s.sured her. "Dan and I have been fishing, too. Come and see what we caught."

Tom led the way to where he had cleaned more than a dozen black ba.s.s, while in buckets of water lay nearly thirty more fine, sleek-looking fish.

"Didn't you catch anything but ba.s.s?" Dave asked.

"A few other fish," Tom admitted, "but we threw the inferior fish back into the water. Now, girls, which are you going to have---trout or ba.s.s?"

"Both---if we may," ventured Laura, with a smile.

And both were served at the meal. Motherly Mrs. Bentley laid aside her motoring dust coat and marshaled the girls for the various tasks to which she a.s.signed them.

What a hubbub there was in preparing the feast!

d.i.c.k built two small fires for his own exclusive use. Tom built two more, while Dan and Greg skirmished for more wood. Dr. Bentley, his coat off and shirt sleeves rolled up, constructed a "warm oven" with stones topped by a large baking tin. Then he built another.

d.i.c.k fried the trout, while Dr. Bentley started low fires under the two crude warming ovens. As fast as trout were fried they were dropped into one oven, Tom's ba.s.s being dropped into the other. Potatoes were boiling in one pot, tinned peas in another, and tinned string beans in still another. Tinned pudding was set in another pot of water to heat, while Mrs. Bentley made a sauce, and the girls set the table and made the other necessary preparations for the luncheon.

Presently the meal was ready, though the boys did not seat themselves until they had seen their welcome guests served.

"Daddy," murmured Laura, "I don't blame you for regretting your boyhood, if you had many trout feasts."

"How's the ba.s.s?" asked Tom, almost jealously.