Once every week there was a picnic, and on those occasions Sam’s prowess with hook and line was in demand. Sad to relate, however, it was at such times that his luck failed him, and very seldom did the picnickers’ vision of crisply fried perch materialise. That fact never spoiled the fun, though, and the weekly picnic was a favourite event. The boys piled into row-boats and canoes, after the small launch had been filled, and, at the end of tow-lines, were taken up or down or across Indian Lake to one of the numerous sites. Fellows who could be thoroughly trusted in canoes were allowed to paddle, but most of them floated along in the wake of the little launch which, with half a dozen boats holding her back, barely managed to make six miles an hour. Sam suspected that one reason picnics were so popular was because there was no “sister” on such days. To be sure, after luncheon was eaten, a luncheon skilfully prepared by Kitty-Bett, the boys were supposed to lie down and keep quiet for the usual half-hour, but the rule was not rigidly enforced and the boys found many ways of amusing themselves without actually moving around. By half-past two they were generally back at the playing-field, for even a picnic doesn’t take the place of a ball game! Sam’s team was called the Mascots, Mr. Gifford’s the Indians, and Steve Brown’s the Brownies. The councillors sometimes played, but more often confined themselves to coaching. If they did take a hand in a game they went into the outfield so that the boys might play in the coveted infield positions. Mr. Gifford’s team was showing up best at the end of the first fortnight and had won two games. Sam’s charges had won one and lost one and the Brownies had lost both of their contests. In fairness to the last named nines, though, it should be explained that the Indians were fortunate in the possession of the only first-class pitcher in camp, one George Porter, a slight, wiry chap of fifteen who had a good curve and a fast straight ball and could mix them up cunningly. Even Sam, who was considered a very dependable batsman back in Amesville, had more than once failed to hit young Porter safely. Aside from pitchers, however, the three teams were evenly matched and when, the Saturday following the receipt of Tom Pollock’s letter, the Mascots and the Indians met for their third game, the entire camp was moved to a high pitch of excitement. CHAPTER V A SLIDE TO THE PLATE