“It’s great!” cried Crane. “Warm! I never saw the water so warm. Somebody get a white stone. Let’s dive.” A white rock twice the size of a hen’s egg was found and tossed into the water, and one after another they took turns diving for it, casting it each time, when recovered, a little further from the shore. Grant proved himself the most expert at this diversion, for he brought up the stone, after all the others had failed to find it, in particularly deep water. In impromptu races, also, the Texan was able to defeat any one of them, although Springer pushed him hard. “I took swimming lessons at school,” he explained. “After a fellow gets so he reckons he can swim about as well as anybody he will usually learn a lot by taking lessons from a good instructor.” They were loath to come out, but presently Rodney urged them to do so, and, after a vigorous rubbing with rough towels, they dressed and found themselves bubbling with fresh vigor, like a lot of young colts. As the sun declined and the afternoon waned Springer mentioned the fact that the time for evening fishing was approaching. “We really ought to have two canoes,” he said, “so four of us could go out. I suppose it will be a good pup-plan for one of us to be at camp all the time.” Promptly Piper announced: “I’m going fishing myself tonight, and I’m going in the canoe, if I have to fight for the chance.” “Dinged if I ain’t with ye, Sleuthy,” cried Sile. “Rod and Phil had all the fun this morning, and naow it’s aour turn.” “But we didn’t go fuf-fishing in the canoe,” reminded Springer. “Because you couldn’t, that’s why,” said Sleuth. “It wasn’t here.” “We had to foot it along the shore and up that brook, you know,” put in Grant. “But that was fun,” snickered Piper. “No work about it; nothing but fun. That’s all there is to camping out.” “Look a’ here, yeou bold pioneer of the wilderness,” said Crane, “if yeou come with me in the canoe yeou don’t want to git a notion that I’m goin’ to do all the paddlin’. Not on your life. Yeou’ll have to do yeour part of it.” “Depend on me, comrade,” said Piper promptly. “I’ll be with you, even to the death.” So, as the others good-naturedly yielded, it was Piper and Crane who put forth in the canoe with their rods and gear to lure the finny denizens of the lake with artificial flies. CHAPTER XIV. THE HAUNTED ISLAND. Luck did not seem to favor the anglers, for, though they paddled along the shores, casting into the shadows, and varied this by trying deeper water, the sun had set before they got a single rise. At last, however, there was a swirl as Crane lightly dropped a “Morning Glory” as far as he could send it from the canoe, and the buzz of the reel made the hearts of both lads jump. “I’ve got one—by jinks! I’ve got one,” palpitated Sile. “You haven’t got him yet,” said Sleuth. “He’s hooked, but you can’t be sure of him until we dip him into the canoe.”