All three boys bent their heads and listened intently. The only sound that came to them, however, was the soft sighing of the breeze through the treetops and the occasional call of some bird preparing to settle down for the night. The sun was low in the west, just sinking below the fringe of the forest which skirted the little lake. All seemed quiet and serene.

“What did you think you heard, Fred?” demanded Grant after the lapse of several moments.

“I thought I heard a call. In fact I was almost—”

Once more he stopped suddenly and listened. “What was that?” he exclaimed.

“I heard something, too,” whispered John excitedly. “Listen!”

“I don’t hear a thing,” muttered Grant. “I must be deaf.”

“There it is again,” cried Fred suddenly.

“I heard it, too,” exclaimed John. “It came from that end of the island.”

“That’s the direction Pop took,” said Grant in alarm. “Perhaps there has something happened to him.”

“We’ll soon find out anyway,” cried Fred. “Come along!” and he began to run at top speed in the direction George had gone a short time before.

Close behind him followed Grant and John. Every boy was worried and beset with a thousand and one evil thoughts as to what might have befallen their light-hearted and well-loved comrade. Almost everything conceivable in the way of misfortune suggested itself to their anxious minds.

“Keep close to the shore, Fred,” called Grant. “He was fishing, you know.”

Fred did keep as close to the shore as possible, but it was no easy task a great many times. The island was rough and rocky and heavily wooded, the trees growing down to the water’s edge in many places. Crashing through the underbrush and making a great deal of noise the three boys raced along. Whether or not the cry which John and Fred had heard was repeated they could not say, for the tumult of their own mad course drowned out all other noises.

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 assistance 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 reassured 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 shore at his feet. Grant seized it eagerly and hastened to George’s assistance.

“Hurry up, Grant!” called George. “I can’t last much longer!”

“Here you are!” cried Grant, leaning out from the shore 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 shore. A large section of the line, however, had to be sacrificed as it was found almost impossible to untangle the mass 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 bass.”

“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 shore.”

“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 appetite.”

“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 appetites 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.”

“Oh, the summer will go fast enough. Don’t worry about that,” Grant warned him. “It’ll be over before we know it.”

At last the fire burned low until it was nothing but a mass of glowing embers. John arose to his feet and yawned. “I’m going in and try those new beds we made this afternoon,” he said. “I’m tired.”

“I’m sleepy, too,” exclaimed Grant. “Let’s all turn in.”

The few remaining coals from the fire were carefully scattered so that they could do no damage during the night. These four friends had had enough experience in the woods to know what a forest fire means. They also knew that all good woodsmen were careful about such things and always had regard for the rights of others.

Every one was sleepy and it was not long before four tired and happy boys were stretched upon four sweet-smelling balsam beds, sound asleep. How long he slept John could not tell when he suddenly awoke with the feeling that he had heard a cry for help.