Hans went forward cautiously and his eyes opened in wonder. Then a sickly grin spread over his round face.
“Huh! Dot’s a fine fish, ain’t he? Say, Sam, vos you goin’ to fry him in putter oder in lard alretty?” And at this quaint query all the other boys set up a hearty laugh.
“Guess you’d better give up fishing now,” said Dick, after the merriment was over. “We’ve got enough for supper, and the best thing we can do is to reach the end of the lake and fix up our camp for the night. We want everything in first-class shape, so that if a storm comes our things won’t get soaked.”
“Oh, don’t say storm!” cried Fred. “I don’t want to see rain.”
“We are bound to get some, Fred, sooner or later.”
The fishing outfits were put away, and once more the boat moved over the bosom of the lake. They had passed three other boats and saw one camp on the north shore.
“Hope we find the Point deserted,” said Dick.
“So do I,” answered Tom. “We want to camp all by ourselves this time.”
It was not long before they came in sight of the shore and the rocky Point. Not a soul was in sight. They brought the boat around to a little cove and all leaped ashore. Near at hand was the remains of a campfire, but it looked a week or more old.
“Nobody here,” said Dick.