A MORNING WITH THE BLACK BASS
"Where did you get this, Jerry?" asked Frank after he had read it.
"It was fastened to the trunk of a tree over there—that big oak."
"Now that you mention it, I can remember seeing something white there early last night. I thought it was only one of your jokes, and declined to investigate," was the comment of Frank.
"That's a point worth knowing. It proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was pinned there before we retired, or shortly after, at any rate," remarked Bluff.
"Talk to me about your Sherlock Holmes and his deductions! Did he ever do any better than that pard of mine? It's the lawyer blood showing early in life, just as Will here, when he can forget his old photography for a minute, is itching to bind up somebody's wounds, simply because his father used to be a doctor, and he has inherited a bit of his skill."
"Who do you think put it there?" Frank continued.
"Why, that blooming old ghost, to be sure," was Jerry's prompt reply.
"Looks like a schoolboy's writing," suggested Will sagaciously.
"Perhaps it is," said Frank, looking at Jerry and nodding.
"But you said before you thought that Peters crowd had gone back to town!"
"And I still think so; but you forget that there was another boy up in this region lately, Will."
"You mean Andy Lasher?" exclaimed the one addressed, quickly.
"Yes; and both Jerry and myself have a pretty good idea that he is responsible for this warning to get out."
"But why should Andy want us to leave? He didn't say a word about it the other day, when we saw him. Look here! I've nursed a notion for some time that you two fellows had something between you the rest of us didn't share. Do you think it fair to treat your own true chums that way?" demanded Bluff.
Frank laughed.
"To tell the truth, I don't, Bluff. I've been feeling badly about it for some time, and was determined to take the rest of you into our confidence," he said.
"All right. What better time than while we are eating breakfast, for there's old Adolphus ready to bang the frying-pan as a summons?" declared Will.
Both Bluff and Will showed more or less eagerness to hear what was in the wind, as they began to eat. Frank took pity on them, and with sundry helps from Jerry managed to tell the whole story.
"This seems to just about 'cap the climax,' as they say," remarked Bluff, after he had learned all the facts known to the others.
"Never listened to a more entrancing tale in all my life. Frank, you're sure a born story-teller," declared Will.
"And so the sheriff is hunting that escaped convict, and you believe he must be the father of poor Andy? Say! I feel sorry for him now. Never did before, you understand; but a fellow with his dad in prison has got a load on his shoulders. As Jerry says, that may account for some of his badness," Bluff went on.
"What are we going to do if the sheriff pops in on us?" questioned Jerry.
"Perhaps he'll want us to lend him a hand in rounding up his game," said Frank, just to ascertain the feelings of his chums on the subject.
"Not for me, he won't!" was the emphatic protest of Bluff.
"I'm up here for a quiet outing, and don't calculate to join with a sheriff's posse to hunt down a wretched escaped convict," avowed Will.
Whereupon Jerry solemnly shook each of them by the hand.
"Thank you, fellows. But I ought to have known that you'd say just that. Pards of mine wouldn't look at the matter any other way. If this runaway from the penitentiary happened to be a bloodthirsty wretch, now, it might be different; but he was sent up purely on circumstantial evidence, and has always declared that he was innocent. Thank you again, both of you," he said with feeling.
"Then it is agreed that while we don't expect to throw any obstacles in the way of our good friend, Mr. Dodd, the sheriff, who is only doing his duty by the State, none of us will raise a hand to assist him—is that your sentiment, boys?" asked Frank, who wanted to have the important matter settled one way or the other.
"It is, unanimously. Perhaps later on we may learn just why Thaddeus Lasher wants to keep people away from this region while he lingers here. That is a mystery just at present, it seems, and we can only amuse ourselves guessing at it."
"Jerry speaks our mind, eh, Will?" said Bluff.
"Every time. And now what are we going to do to-day to amuse ourselves?"
"I'm anxious to try and see if there are bass in this lake," said Frank.
"I've been told there are whopping big fellows, so you'd better be careful how you cast and strike, or you may break your fine tackle," remarked Will.
"If you don't mind, pard, I'm going with you in the big Injun canoe," observed Jerry, whose sporting blood was always ready for new conquests with gun and rod.
"Will and myself will take a shy at that snake den, and see if we can burn the pesky things out. Somehow, I don't just like having such close neighbors, eh, Will?"
"You bet we will; and perhaps I'll have a chance to snap them off a few times. They gave me a scare all right, yesterday, and I'm wanting to even up the score. Come on, then, Bluff. Get an old pair of gloves for handling the dead brush; some of it has thorns, as I found out to my cost."
So the party divided up.
Frank and Jerry pushed off soon afterward, and paddled up the lake. It was just the sport that appealed to the hearts of these two lovers of nature, and as the silvery drops fell from the ends of their paddles the soft "swish" was sweetest music in their ears.
Selecting a point which, to their practiced eyes, promised the best results, they started in. Jerry took the paddle first, while Frank cast his flies alluringly on the water, close to the shore, and drew them toward the boat. A soft morning air just rippled the dark water and made the conditions ideal for such sport, as the boys declared again and again.
Hardly had Frank made half a dozen splendid casts than his wrist was suddenly turned with a quick jerk that snapped the hook of the Red Ibis fly fast in the jaw of an adventurous bass, eager for a dainty breakfast.
"Good!" was the only comment of Jerry, who knew the value of silence when upon a fishing trip, since the water carries all sounds so readily.
Frank played his prize back and forth with a practiced hand. He seemed as cool as the oldest veteran fisherman could have been. Even when the big fellow, that must have weighed all of two pounds, flashed out of the water by several feet, turning over in the air in a graceful arch, with the intention of breaking the hook or line, Frank only lowered the bending tip of his rod a trifle, so as to give the fish a slack line and thwart his design.
For several minutes the exciting battle went on. The wily bass tried all the various tricks handed down from generations of ancestors, but he was matched now against one likely to prove his master. In the end, Jerry scooped him up with the landing-net, and held up the glistening beauty.
