“We are students at the Montford Academy,” said Dick Langdon. “Yesterday we asked for a short leave of absence, and came up here in search of fun and adventure.” “And we got all we wanted of both!” chimed in Bob Howard. “Dick lost his canoe, and I lost my gun, but we caught a splendid string of fish, and I had a twenty-minute fight with a muskalonge, that I shall remember as long as I live.” “You don’t say anything about the narrow escape we had from having our brains dashed out on those rocks,” observed Dick. “There’s no need that I should speak of that, for George knows as much about it as we do. By-the-way, do you suppose the “I am afraid you have seen them for the last time,” replied George. “But I don’t think your gun is lost beyond recovery.” “How shall we go to work to get it?” “If the lake is quiet to-morrow, we can dive for it. I think I can go right to the spot where your boat was capsized.” “How deep is the water?” “About thirty feet.” “You don’t pretend to say that you can bring up bottom at that depth, do you?” “Oh, yes! I can go deeper than that, when I have a high place to take a plunge from.” “Well, you are better at diving than I am, and I will make it worth your while to get that gun for me. I value it highly, for it was the last thing my father gave me before I left my Western home to come to this academy. So this is where you live, is it?” said Bob, as George entered the cabin door and invited them to enter. Then George and his new friends pulled off some of their wet clothes, and, having wrung the water out of them, they hung them over the stools to dry. The fire was soon blazing merrily, and, as the boys turned themselves slowly about in front of it and listened to the howling of the storm and the beating of the rain on the roof, they felt a sense of comfort and security that was decidedly refreshing after their recent experience. “Now, isn’t this glorious?” said Dick Langdon, adjusting his spectacles and spreading his hands over the warm blaze. “I believe there must be some Indian about me, for do you know, fellows, that I have often thought I should like to live this way all my life?” Without waiting for an answer, Dick straightened up, turned his back to the fire and sung, in a clear, mellow voice: ’Neath the shade of the old oak tree, Where the wild birds warble their songs of praise, In tones so wild and free. A lovely place is this home of mine— A quiet, a dear little spot; And over my casement the vine doth entwine, Like an angel, to watch o’er my cot!” “The sentiment is very fine, no doubt,” said Bob Howard. “But if that dear little home of yours was covered with snow, so that you couldn’t stir out of it for months; and your firewood gave out, and the wolves came and serenaded you every day and glared down at you through the chimney; and your provisions run short, and you saw starvation staring you in the face! I tell you what’s a fact, Dick; I know something about that. There has been a good deal of nonsense written about life in the woods. You could not stand it three months.” “I’d like to try,” said Dick. “I’ll change places with you,” said George. “I’ll give you my house, if you will give me your seat at the academy.” “Indeed I would.” “Then, why don’t you go?” George was so surprised at this question, that he did not reply to it. Why didn’t he go? Where were his guest’s eyes and ears? Would he, or any other boy, who was in full possession of his senses, be likely to make a hermit of himself from choice? Of course, he could not tell them that he had no money to pay for four years’ tuition at the academy, and so he held his peace; but his silence told his new friends all they wanted to know, and they then and there made up their minds to act accordingly. After the two boys had warmed themselves and dried their clothing, Dick proceeded to overhaul his gun, and Bob assisted George in laying the table and preparing supper. It was not much the latter had to place before his guests—nothing but bread and butter, a few vegetables and a cup of tea; but there were half a dozen young squirrels in Bob’s game-bag, which the owner had saved George’s long walk had given him a good appetite, and the ducking Dick and Bob had received must have had a similar effect upon them, for the edibles rapidly disappeared, and in a few minutes every bone had been picked clean. “How did you two fellows happen to find your way to this lonely region?” asked George, as he threw more wood on the fire and drew one of the stools into the chimney corner. “Oh, we have often heard of this lake and the fine fishing that could be enjoyed here, if one had a boat to go about in; so I sent home for my canoe,” replied Dick Langdon. “When it came, we hired a team to bring us and our trappings up here, and asked the professor for a holiday. We are to go back to-morrow night, for no student is allowed to be away from the village over Sunday, unless he is known to be at home, where he can’t get into mischief.” “We haven’t any. We slept in Mr. Stebbins’ barn last night.” “In his barn!” repeated George. “Why didn’t you go into the house?” “Because the old fellow wouldn’t let us,” said Dick, with a laugh. “We gave him abundant proof that we were able to pay for our supper and lodging, but he would not listen to us.” “And while he was talking to us, he held the door open just about two inches,” observed Bob. “He acted as if he was afraid of us.” “Very likely he was,” said George. “If all reports are true, he’s got a pile of money hidden away somewhere in his house.” “Ah, that accounts for his suspicions, then. For a while, we thought we would have to stay out of doors all night,” continued Dick; “but finally, the old fellow said we might sleep on the hay, if we wouldn’t smoke. And just before dark he brought us a mouthful of bread and butter and about half a pint of milk.” “And charged us a dollar for it!” said “Yes, there is one at the lower end,” replied George; “but I am his nearest neighbor.” When bedtime came, George spread all his quilts and blankets on the floor in front of the fire, and he and his guests went to sleep, lulled by the howling of the storm, which continued to rage with unabated fury until long after midnight; but the morning broke bright and clear, and at the first peep of day the boys were astir. They looked out at the door, and saw that the lake was as smooth as a mill-pond. There was nothing to prevent them from making an attempt to recover Bob Howard’s lost fowling-piece. “But first, I must have a good breakfast “And there’s an axe, and you will find plenty of poles behind the cabin,” said George, “While you are cutting them, I will go down and bring up the scow.” “Did you save any cartridges?” asked Dick Langdon, who stood just outside the door, with his head turned on one side, as if he were listening intently. “I did; and as they are loaded in water-proof cases, they are not injured in the least.” “Well, your gun is the same calibre as mine, and if you will give me some of those cartridges, I’ll see if I can get a squirrel or two for breakfast. I hear one barking out there in the woods.” Bob handed his game-bag to Dick, who slung it over his shoulder and set out in search of the squirrels, while George hurried down the beach to bring up the scow. By the time he returned, Bob had rigged a pole and dug a supply of bait; and when “There’s nothing like knowing where to go to find the best places,” said Bob, half an hour later, as he surveyed with no little satisfaction, the fine string of yellow perch which was floating in the water alongside the scow. “Yesterday, Dick and I tried all the likely spots along the opposite shore, but we didn’t get a bite until we got down to the lower end of the lake.” “That was because you didn’t understand the habits of the fish,” replied George. “When the season first opens, you will find them along the beach, just outside the weeds; but as the weather grows warmer, they draw off into deep holes, and at this time of the year you will find the best fishing in about forty feet of water.” While Bob was engaged in hauling in the perch, almost as fast as he could bait his hook, Dick Langdon was not idle. His gun spoke at short intervals, and as Dick was a fine marksman, he did not throw away a single charge of shot. Breakfast was soon cooked and eaten, and then Dick and Bob announced that they were ready to see George make an attempt to recover the lost fowling-piece. The lake being quiet, they had a fair view of the rocks on which they had so narrowly escaped being wrecked, and they shuddered as they looked at them. |