The fire still burned with unabated fury along the shores, and so great was the heat that the lake was actually getting warmer. It was a large body of water, fed by ice-cold springs, and as a rule it was almost too cold for comfortable swimming. But now it had grown almost tepid, so much so that numerous fish, unused to any but a cold lake, were killed by the unaccustomed warmth and numbers of them began to make their appearance on the surface of the lake. The boys were ravenously hungry, but they had no way of cooking the fish, and they were far from being hungry enough to try to eat them raw. In their flight it had not occurred to any of them to take food along, and now they regretted the oversight, especially Jimmy, who looked longingly at the beautiful bass and lake trout so close to his hand.
“Say!” he exclaimed, “wouldn’t one or two of those fellows taste good, nicely broiled and served hot?”
“There’s plenty of fire on shore,” Joe pointed out. “Just swim over and poke one or two of those fish up on the bank, Doughnuts, and they’ll be ready to eat in no time.”
“Well, if you’ll furnish me with a nice asbestos suit, maybe I’ll try it,” retorted Jimmy, “Don’t forget that I might get cooked even sooner than the fish.”
“Oh, we’d have to take a chance on that,” said Joe, heartlessly.
“Maybe you’ll have to, but I won’t,” replied Jimmy, with conviction in his tones. “Go over and broil yourself, if you want to.”
“I will—if I want to,” Joe assured him.
“It’s a wonder you can’t cook the fish with your precious radio set,” said Buck, with one of his customary sneers.
“Don’t be too sure that we can’t!” exclaimed Bob, as Buck’s words gave him an idea. “Haven’t we got some German silver resistance wire on the raft, Joe?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure we have,” returned his friend. “What do you want it for?”