“A bite! A bite!” he cried. “And a big one, too! Oh, fellows, I’ve got a dandy. Watch me pull him in!” His reel was whirring at a fast clip, singing the song of the fish, and he was holding the butt, and winding in as fast as he could. There was a splash in the water, and a flash of silver drops as a big fish broke. “Give him line! Give him line!” cried Tom. “Reel in! Give him the butt more,” suggested Dick. “Pull him in!” yelled Bert. Jack was working frantically. The big fish leaped and plunged. Suddenly Jack leaned over a bit too far, lost his balance, and a moment later he was floundering in the lake. CHAPTER VII A MIDNIGHT VISITOR “Help! Get a boat! Help me out! Blub! Splub! Come on!” stammered and yelled Jack, as he went down under the water, and came up again, somewhat entangled in his fishing tackle. “Don’t let the fish get away!” cried Tom. “Grab him by the tail!” advised Dick. “Hold him, no matter if you do get wet,” was Bert’s contribution. “You’ve had all the luck!” “Luck! Luck!” retorted Jack. “If you call it luck to fall in the lake I----” He was interrupted by a flurry of the big fish, that had not yet gotten off the hook, and, as Jack had instinctively kept hold of the rod, the finny prize was still a captive. “It’s luck to get a fish like that,” declared Tom. “If I had him I wouldn’t let go,” and he started across the rocks to the aid of his chum. Dick and Bert had also laid aside their rods and were hurrying to the immersed one. By this time Jack had managed to swim ashore, as he was only a few feet from it, and he was clambering up the rocky bank, keeping hold of his rod and line as best he could. “Is he off?” asked Tom anxiously, as he joined his comrade. “Have you got the big fish yet?” “Say, you care more about the fish than you do about me!” objected Jack. “Why shouldn’t I?” asked our hero, with a laugh. “This is the first fish any of us caught. Reel in now. Never mind about yourself, you’ll dry, but we want that fish!” Jack did have enough sporting blood to forget his own condition, and soon he was reeling in the fish, which was still on the hook. But most of the fight was gone from him, and it did not take much of an effort to land him. The prize proved to be a large bass. “That will be great when Dick cooks it!” exclaimed Bert, as he held up Jack’s catch. “Me cook it!” cried the village lad. “Say, I thought everyone had to cook his own catch.” “Not much!” exclaimed Tom. “You’re cook for this week, and you have to serve up all the fish and game we bring in. I’m thinking of bringing in a bear soon.” “And I’ve got an idea where I can get a lot of frogs’ legs,” added Bert. “I’ll manage to furnish a mock turtle, and we can make more soup,” added Jack. “Or, if you like, I’ll keep on with the fish.” “Say!” cried Dick. “You fellows can cook your own game. I’ll manage the canned stuff and----” “Yes, and I suppose you’ll fricassee the baked beans if we don’t watch you,” put in Tom with a laugh.