“Do you think it’s all right to trust him?” asked Ned.
“I’m sure it is,” replied Jerry. “That note from the chief was genuine. I know his writing, and the paper was the same as the chief uses in his private office. I got a permit once from him to carry a revolver. You remember, when we made our first auto trip.”
Satisfied that their belongings had been left in good hands, and were safe from any chance intrusion from Noddy Nixon or his cronies, the boys put in an enjoyable morning fishing. They made several good catches, and when the sun indicated that it was nearly noon, they rowed around the island to camp.
“I hope he has a good fire going so we can cook some of these fish,” observed Bob.
“I guess he will be ready for us,” said Ned. “He seems to be a willing worker.”
Sure enough, when the boys rowed to shore they found their odd guest had built a fine fire in an improvised oven, and was all ready to proceed with cooking the fish. It was the best meal the boys had eaten since coming to camp, and they had the tramp to thank for the major part of it. The ragged man proved he had a better appetite even than Chunky, which is saying a great deal. The fish were done to a turn, and the bacon gravy gave them a most excellent flavor.
So heartily did all eat that they were too lazy to do anything but lounge around after dinner. They stretched out under the trees and before they knew it the boys had dozed off.
Jerry was the first to awaken. It was about three o’clock when he sat up, rubbing his eyes, and, for a moment wondering where he was. Then he saw the lake through the trees and remembered. He looked around and saw Bob and Ned still stretched out on the sward. The tramp was nowhere in sight.
“I wonder if he’s gone fishing,” thought Jerry. “He’s a queer duck. I must take a look at our motor boat.”