The girls, in dry garments, soon forgot the discomforts of the trip to Bear Pond, and a little later, after a session of sitting under a heavy-foliaged pine tree, that kept off the rain, while a fire blazed cheerfully beneath it, the boys went to their own tents, and the girls prepared for the night. “Let’s go fishing!” proposed Marie to her chums the next day, and as they knew something of the art so delightfully described by Mr. Izaak Walton, and were not afraid to bait hooks, the Camp Fire Girls were soon out on the lake in their two rowboats, heading for a quiet cove, where the boys had said some fine pickerel and perch abounded. A “clay chicken” had been decided on for dinner that day the girls having found that this method of preparing the fowl was most excellent. It had been put in the hole in the ground, and covered with embers before the fishing party had started off. “It will be done when we get back,” decided Marie, who was cook that day, “and there will be enough left over for supper.” “What will we do with our fish?” asked Mabel. “We haven’t much ice, and they won’t keep,” for the ice boat left a supply occasionally at the camps and cottages of the lake. “We can give them to the boys, or to Mr. Rossmore,” said Natalie. “Let’s wait and see if we catch any,” suggested Mrs. Bonnell with a laugh. The girls did have fairly good luck, though Natalie lost what she declared was the biggest perch in the lake, it not being well-hooked, and getting off just as she raised it from the water. Indeed they did have so many fish, that, what with the “clay chicken” they did not need them all for food. And after the boys had cleaned the catch, some were given to themselves, and the rest to Reuben, whose directions had enabled the girls to get lost coming from Bear Pond. He said he would give some to the old hermit of the mill. “But indeed it wasn’t his fault that we took the wrong path,” said Natalie. “No, I guess every one who goes to Bear Pond the first time has the same experience,” added Marie. “I know I heard a number of campers say the same thing. There are too many cow-paths.” They had nearly finished dinner, some time later, the “clay chicken” being done to a turn, when Natalie remarked: “I’m going to get some olives. I set out a bottle to put on the table, but I forgot them. Have some, girls?” “Surely!” exclaimed the others. Natalie disappeared into the cooking tent where some of the supplies were kept, and came back quickly, exclaiming: “Who took them?” “What?” asked Mrs. Bonnell. “That bottle of olives. I left them, all ready to serve, on the box of canned things that we haven’t opened yet. Now they’re gone.” “The boys——” began Alice. “Haven’t been here,” declared Natalie. “They have gone to Mt. Harry again, or somewhere else, trying to locate the Gypsy camp.” “Perhaps you didn’t put the olives there,” suggested Mabel. “I’m sure——” began Natalie, and then as the others came to the tent to help her look, she added: