The second trot-line was put out, from a point near the foot of the raft, by a method similar to that already told. Slanting athwart the depths of the slough the two lines now extended, ready for business. Satisfied, and also very hungry, the boys made for shore and the grape arbor, where they were joyously welcomed by Bob.
According to the height of the sun, as well as to their stomachs, it was ripe noon, and time for dinner. By common consent, in their outings, Hal, who had a knack in that direction, was the cook. It was Ned’s duty to provide the wood, and to attend to camp affairs generally outside of the meals.
Bob was watchman and sergeant-at-arms.
“What will we have?” inquired Hal.
“Oh, anything,” answered Ned; “just so we have it quick!”
“Bacon and potatoes, fried together,” proffered the cook.
And bacon and thin slices of potatoes, fried together in a skillet over a brisk little fire of branches and driftwood, it was!
“I tell you there’s nothing like bacon!” sighed Ned, scraping his tin plate.
“And potatoes!” sighed Hal, also scraping. (Who says that cooking spoils the appetite!)