"If they want to come down and look along the edge of this lake, they'll soon find out where their tires are," Dick Prescott chuckled. "But they'll have to come right in here to camp and ask for their property." "Which they won't greatly care about doing," laughed Reade. "Let them stay away until their nerves improve, then," said Dick briefly. "Now, let's see; we've got to set up the cots and bedding, and get the two lanterns filled and trimmed for the evening. That ought not to take many minutes." Nor did it. When this had been done, Dick asked: "Fellows, you know what we came here to do? Fish wouldn't taste bad for supper, would it? Which two of you want to go and try your luck for perch? They'll bite, even after dark." Tom and Hazelton made a hasty selection of tackle, also producing a can of bait that had been brought along from Gridley. Then Tom and Harry disappeared, taking with them one of the lanterns. A quarter of a mile below the camp were the ruins of an old pier from which they could cast their lines. Where the perch are plentiful there is little skill involved in such fishing. Perch will bite after dark. The hook is baited and dropped in. The fish take hold greedily, rarely falling from the hook afterward. While Tom and Harry were still fishing darkness fell. The two Gridley boys fished on in silence, adding frequently to the two crotched stick "strings" that flopped on the end of the pier. "We've thirty-nine perch. That's enough, even for a hungry crowd like ours," said Tom at last, after lighting the lantern. "Here is the fortieth, then," called Hazelton, as he felt a tug at his line. He landed a pound perch almost under Tom's nose. "Good enough business, this," declared Tom contentedly. "I hope the fellows have everything else ready." Tom carried the lantern; each boy carried a string of fish. As they neared camp, Danny Grin espied them, and ran forward to see the size of the catch. "Here they are!" called Dalzell. "They've fish enough to feed a fat men's boarding house!" "Bring them here," called Dick from a board beside which he and Greg crouched, each with a knife in hand. One after another the fish were scaled and cleaned with a speed known only to old campers. Dave had two frying pans hot over a fire. In went the perch, sputtering in the fat and giving forth appetizing odors. "My, but they're going to taste good!" declared Danny Grin. Leaving Greg to finish with the cleaning of the fish Dick passed to another campfire, throwing into a hot pan the material for fried potatoes. Ere long the meal was on the table---two boards placed across the tops of two boxes. It was a low table, but it served the purpose. "My, but this fish tastes good!" murmured Tom Reade, as he picked a piece of fried perch free of the backbone and began eating it.