The days and weeks slipped by and still the life in the island camp did not pall on on the four Go Ahead boys. They were busy every moment with the thousand and one duties and pleasures of camp life and the summer days drifted by like a succession of pleasant dreams.

One of the boys’ favorite occupations was shooting at a target. Fred was the owner of a little twenty-two caliber, hammerless rifle, and many an hour was spent by the boys in practice with this small gun. It was surprising how skillful they had become.

Grant and John were lying on the wharf one afternoon trying to shoot the heads off some water lilies that grew near the shore on the opposite side of the harbor.

“Now just suppose that one was an Indian,” exclaimed John, taking careful aim at an unsuspecting lily bud. The sharp spit of the little rifle followed and the bullet struck the water some two feet the other side of the “Indian.”

“You’ll have to do better than that,” laughed Grant. “We’ll all be scalped in a minute unless you get him. Let me try.”

John passed over the gun and on his first attempt Grant split the bulb clearly in halves.

“Good shot, Grant,” exclaimed John. “You saved our lives.”

“Just suppose that had been a lion or a tiger or a rhinoceros or some animal like that charging down upon us,” said Grant. “Suppose we were caught in a little ravine and we either had to kill the animal or be killed ourselves. What would you do?”

“I’d probably be so scared I’d faint or something,” laughed John.

“It would take nerve all right, wouldn’t it?”

“More than I’ve got, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think most people are brave when it comes right down to the point.”

“I hope I’d be, anyway,” exclaimed John. “I think a coward is about the worst thing in the world.”

“Some people that seem the most timid have the most nerve when it’s really needed,” remarked Grant. “The ones that talk the loudest are not always the bravest by a long shot.

“Perhaps they try to make up by noise what they lack in nerve,” laughed John. “I’ve noticed that too, and I’ve also discovered that it doesn’t pay to make fun of anybody. Do you remember that boy at home? Everybody used to call him a ‘sis’ and a ‘willie-boy’ but when Bob Jackson’s dog fell into the mill-race he was the only one who had nerve enough to jump in after him. That taught me a lesson, I can tell you.”

“I wonder what animal is the most dangerous in the world.”

“A lion is, I guess.”

“I don’t think so. Lions are mostly scavengers they say and I’ve heard that tigers are worse than they are. A tiger doesn’t give any warning at all when he attacks.”

“Well, I’d just as soon not meet either one of them on a lonely road,” laughed John.

“Nor I,” agreed Grant. “I’ve heard though that a rhinoceros or an African buffalo is worse than either a lion or a tiger.”

“How about a grizzly bear?”

“They’re all pretty bad, I guess,” said Grant. “I wouldn’t stop to argue with any one of them.”

“Let me have that gun again,” exclaimed John. “If we’re going to meet all these ferocious wild animals we’ll need more practice in shooting.”

Just at this moment, however, George and Fred appeared. They came out of the clump of trees behind the tent and seemed very much excited about something.

“Hey, Grant!” called Fred. “Where’s the gun?”

“Right here. What’s the matter?”

“Do you remember what you said about wanting to shoot one of those big herons and have it stuffed?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Well, Pop and I discovered one just now in that little marsh over on the other side of the island.”

“Bring the gun along and maybe you’ll get a shot at it,” exclaimed George. “You’d better hurry though.”

“He won’t be there now,” said Grant.

“Why won’t he?” demanded Fred. “You won’t get him if you sit there and do nothing, like a great big galoot though. Let me have the gun if you don’t want it yourself.”

“Oh, I’ll go with you,” exclaimed Grant rising to his feet. “I don’t think for a minute he’ll still be there though. What was he doing?”

“Looking for fish, I guess,” said George. “He was wading around in the swamp on those great long legs of his; he looked as if he was on stilts.”

“Grant doesn’t seem very eager, Pop,” remarked Fred. “I wish he’d give us the gun.”

“Come along,” cried Grant. “I’ve been waiting for you to start.”

“Huh,” snorted Fred; “listen to that, I think we ought to have the bird anyway; we discovered him.”

“Did he see you?” asked John. The four boys were now hurrying along guided by Fred who was slightly in the lead.

“I can truthfully say that he did not,” said George decidedly and Fred snickered.

“What’s the matter?” inquired Grant suspiciously. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing,” said Fred quickly, but as he looked back at his companions the suspicion of a smile lurked upon his countenance.

“There’s something funny about this,” exclaimed Grant. “I tell you right now that if you two are putting up a game on me there’ll be trouble.”

“I don’t believe they saw a heron at all,” said John.

“I tell you we did,” exclaimed Fred earnestly. “Pop and I will both swear to it; we saw one in the swamp over here. Of course we can’t guarantee that he’ll still be there when you slowpokes arrive.”

“That’s right,” chimed in George. “We certainly did see one not five minutes before we came back to the dock to tell you about it. I don’t see why you need be so suspicious about it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust you two,” said Grant. “You’ve acted sort of funny about it too.”

“You only think we have,” retorted Fred. “Careful now, the marsh is just ahead of us.”

“Why don’t we sneak up behind those bushes?” suggested George, pointing to a clump of elderberries a few yards in front of them.

“That’s a good scheme,” exclaimed Fred. “We can hide behind them and get a good view of the marsh without being seen ourselves.”

Stealthily the four boys made their way until they reached the spot George had designated. On the other side of the bushes and extending for a hundred yards or so was the swamp where the heron was reported to have been seen.

“Careful now,” whispered Fred as they crouched behind the clump of elderberry bushes. “We don’t want to scare him away.”

“If he’s still there,” muttered Grant. He had been suspicious of Fred and George; their manner had seemed somewhat peculiar to him but they were serious enough now and his doubts were removed.

“Do you see him?” asked John eagerly, as Fred peered out through an opening in the bushes.

“Not yet.”

“Where was he when you saw him before?” demanded Grant.

“Down by that point. I don’t see him there now though.”

“Let me look,” pleaded Grant excitedly. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Look along the shore,” directed Fred, yielding his place to Grant. “He’s more likely to be there than any place else I think.”

As Grant searched the marsh George suddenly made a peculiar noise. It might have passed for a sob or a chuckle or he could have even been accused of choking.

“Stop that,” cried Fred fiercely, hitting George sharply in the ribs with his fist.

“What’s the matter with you two?” exclaimed Grant. He turned quickly around and eyed his two companions narrowly.

“I choked,” stammered George. “I couldn’t help it.”

“If you’ve been fooling me you’ll do worse than choke,” muttered Grant fiercely. “You two are acting very queerly it seems to me.”

“Because I choked?” demanded George. “I don’t see what there is queer about that.”

“Will you swear you saw a heron here?” demanded Grant.

“I will,” exclaimed Fred. “I declare to you, Grant, there was one here. We saw him first down by that point where I showed you.”

“He’s not there now,” said Grant. “That much is sure.”

“He may have moved along you know. Just because he isn’t in that same spot doesn’t mean that he has left.”

“Well, I don’t see him anyway.”

“Let me look,” exclaimed George. “My eyes are better than yours.”

Grant exchanged places with George who now seemed to have recovered from his recent affliction; he scanned the nearby marsh eagerly and was quiet and serious now.

“Well?” demanded Grant after a moment had elapsed.

George turned and looked at the speaker. “Come here,” he whispered, crooking his finger mysteriously.

Grant, much excited now, crowded up close beside George. Together they peered out across the swamp.

“See that dead log lying on the beach down there?” inquired George.

“Yes.”

“Do you see anything the other side of it?”

“No.”

“Not a thing?”

“I don’t see anything but the old dead limb of a tree sticking up.”

“That’s not a dead limb, Grant.”

“Sure enough,” cried Grant excitedly. “Say,” he exclaimed, “I saw that thing before but I thought it was a stick.”

“It’s not though,” said George triumphantly. “It’s a heron and Fred and I accept your apology for all you’ve thought about us.”

“Why doesn’t it move?” demanded Grant.

“Don’t you know that herons often stand like that for a long, long time? If you’re going to shoot that fellow you’d better get a move on yourself though.”

“I can’t hit him from here.”

“Don’t try. Sneak up closer.”

“Give me the gun, Grant,” exclaimed Fred. “If you don’t care anything about shooting him I’d like a try at it myself.”

“No, you don’t,” said Grant quickly, and rising to his feet he crouched low and began to run swiftly down towards the shore of the lake.

“Follow those bushes along the shore,” directed George. “Don’t let him see you, whatever you do.”

“He’s all right so far,” said Fred. “He’s got good protection down as far as the water anyway.”

“I hope he gets it,” exclaimed John eagerly. “He’s certainly a good shot and that ought to help some.”

“Oh, he’ll get it all right,” said George. He and Fred looked at each other for a moment and then both burst into silent but uncontrollable laughter.

“What’s the matter with you two?” demanded John, completely taken aback by their strange behavior.

“Oh, String,” said George. “If you only knew.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me?” exclaimed John. “What sort of a game have you put up on Grant anyway?”

“Do you see that heron he’s after?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Well, it’s dead. Fred and I found it on the shore and stuck it up behind that log. Just wait till Grant finds it out,” and the two conspirators hugged each other delightedly.