Bart obeyed, and he had not drawn his hook a third of the way to the canoe before it was snapped up, bringing a little cry of satisfaction from his lips. “Oh, this is sport!” he exclaimed. “I thought we had fun with those little fellows.” “Those little fellows!” laughed Frank. “A short time ago you were calling them beauties.” “They seemed so then, but these are so much larger—no you don’t, old chap!—and they are so much whiter! I hope we can get a big mess of them!” Then Bart snapped into the boat a fish quite as large as the one Merriwell had caught. He held the shining beauty up and feasted his eyes on the spectacle a moment. Then the hook was removed, and the fish was tossed down to help stir up his gasping comrades. By this time Frank had hooked another, and for fifteen minutes the fun was fast and furious. Once they were forced to pick up the paddles and get ahead of the school again; but finally, with amazing suddenness, the fish ceased biting. “Where have they gone?” asked Bart. “I can’t see them jumping anywhere.” “Nor I,” said Frank. “They have sunk. Let your line drop deeper before starting to pull in.” But, although they tried various methods of fishing, they caught but two or three more, and those were not large ones. “They are gone,” said Frank, regretfully; “but we have made a fine haul, Hodge. Won’t Browning kick himself, to think he did not get up and come with me when I awoke him this morning!” “He won’t get over it all day, for he’d rather fish than do anything else—unless it’s sleep. It’s wonderful how lazy that fellow is.” “But he can fight. He’s got so he wants to fight my battles now. Why, he was going to dip in over at Camp Benson last night when that fellow, Welch, from Newport, took a fancy to punch me for dancing with his girl.” “He told me about it, and he said Welch was backed by a big, bewhiskered ruffian who was all ready to hit you from behind. That was why he got into the game. It was a plain case of a crooked attempt to do you up, but Browning spoiled the trick.” “I saw the man, and I was on guard for him. Welch swore he’d do me, and he’s just the kind of fellow who will try to keep his word. He is a ruffian, but is cowardly. I do not believe he would hesitate to kill a man if he was in a rage and thought he might escape punishment for——” The report of a gun reached their ears, and, at the same moment, something came rattling against the side of the canoe. Hodge uttered a cry of pain. “I’m shot!” he exclaimed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XIX INTO THE LAKE. A curl of white smoke was rising above some water reeds, plainly showing where the gun had been fired. Hodge held up his hand, and there was blood on his wrist. He wiped it away, and then picked a shot from under the skin.