There was no further alarm. By the time breakfast had been disposed of they could look the matter calmly in the face, and it no longer appeared in such a terrible aspect as when they were scampering around in their pajamas fighting the flames and smoke. The sun seemed unusually warm this morning, so Will declared that he meant to tramp over to the lake and try a little fishing, since they would have small opportunity to do any of this when the cold winds came again. "I'm on too," remarked Bluff, moodily; "a fellow without a gun is like a fifth wheel to a wagon, useless in camp. Let's make up some lunch, for it's a long tramp, and we won't come home until late." Jerry announced that he wanted to go over and have a further talk with Jesse Wilcox; after which he might take a tramp in a new region advised by the old trapper as opening a possible chance for big game--perhaps a deer. Frank declared he would stick to the camp; with such vicious characters around, he secretly thought it hardly safe for all of them to go away, leaving old Toby as the sole guardian. They had too much at stake, since their pleasure would be destroyed if the camp were raided successfully. Reaching the lake Will spent much of his time taking views, while Bluff set to work trying to entice the finny denizens of the water to bite his lures. As time went on he was fairly successful, and when they ate their lunch he had quite a fair string of fish as the reward of his diligence. Will proved to be a poor fisherman after all, especially when he had his adored camera along, for he presently wandered off again. "Don't go too far," warned Bluff, as he sat on the end of a log that jutted out over the water a yard or more. Engrossed with his sport, Bluff hardly noticed how time passed. Hearing a step back of him, he called out: "I got three more; what luck did you have, Will?" He heard what sounded like a chuckling laugh back of him; and before he could turn some one gave him a strong push. Bluff went over with a splash into the lake. CHAPTER XIII THE COMING OF THE STORM Bluff came up spluttering. "Help! help!" he shouted, involuntarily, as well as a mouth half full of water would permit. But there was no one in sight. Whoever had shoved him into the lake had mysteriously vanished, though a movement in the bushes told the direction of his flight. Recovering from the shock, Bluff found that he could clamber out without much difficulty, and he hastened to do so. His cries had been heard, however, for presently the sound of some one running wildly came to his ears, and Will burst into view. At sight of the dripping fisherman he broke into a shout. "Caught a Tartar, did you, and he pulled you in? Oh! what wouldn't I have just given to have been here? A snapshot of you going over would have been the finest ever."