“Oh, get out!” ejaculated the exasperated cook. “Well, I got the fish, anyhow,” said Jack as, dripping water from every point, he held up his prize. “It’s a beaut, too.” “It nearly got you,” commented Tom. “But say, there must be great fishing in this lake when they come right up to shore and take the bait that way.” “Oh, we’ve struck a good place all right,” declared Jack. “As soon as we get straightened out we’ll go out in the middle, and pull in some of the big ones.” “I think I can get another like yours right here at shore,” said Tom, and he threw in. Shortly he had a bite, and almost duplicated Jack’s catch. Meanwhile Jack was cleaning and scaling his prize, and drying himself out. The other boys had fair luck with rod and line, and then it was up to Dick to cook the fish, which he did, frying them in bacon and corn meal. “Oh, say, maybe they don’t smell good!” cried Tom, as the savory odor was spread about the camp. “They’ll taste better,” was Jack’s comment. The evening meal was a great success and they all voted that Dick was a much better cook than he had given himself credit for. “How are you on pies?” asked Tom, as they sat around the campfire that evening, after everything was ready for bed. “Think you can tackle them, Dick? We’ve got prepared flour, and you can use some jam, or canned apples, for filling.” “I’ll try it,” agreed the amateur cook. “We’ll have pie to-morrow.” They did not sleep very well that night, as the beds were rather hard, not having been properly made, and they were all rather excited over the events of the day. Breakfast, however, with coffee, and bacon and eggs which they had brought from Wilden, put them all in good humor, and they made a merry meal. “Now for some fishing!” exclaimed Tom, as he went down to look about his motorboat. “And I’m going to take a gun and see if I can get anything in the line of game,” put in Jack. “It’s out of season for most things, but I may get something in the bird line.” “And Dick is going to make pie,” said Bert. “Make four, old man, so there’ll be one apiece.” “All right,” agreed the young cook good naturedly. “I won’t guarantee results, but I’ll do my best.” Tom started out in the boat with Bert to do some fishing, while Jack wandered off in the woods with his shotgun. Dick did up the dishes and then began rummaging around in the supplies. Soon he was whistling away and, as Tom and Bert could see, from where they were in the boat, he was kept quite busy over something. “Well, did you get ’em made?” asked Tom, when they had all assembled for dinner. “How about the pies, Dick?” “There they are,” was the retort, and Dick pointed to the pastry. “Hum! They smell good!” exclaimed Jack, as he whiffed an odor from the pies. “They look good,” commented Tom. “Let’s see if they taste good,” suggested Bert. The pies were served as dessert, and at the first mouthful Tom let out a howl. “For the love of tripe!” he cried. “What did you put in these pies, Dick?”