"Of course, they can get fish enough, if they only want them to eat; but I never heard of anybody campin' here."
"That's probably the very reason why they stop; no one would think of looking for them where there's so little sport to be had. Now we'll slip down about half-way between here and there, and build our camp."
This time Jet rowed, and his companion steered the little craft to a small point within less than half a mile of where Bob's boat could be seen.
The guide took upon himself the task of building a shelter, and he had a very respectable looking lean-to finished before night.
The boat was drawn up on the shore; the goods stored underneath her, and everything was ready for the night.
Jim caught four fish from the bank, and these he fried in a most appetizing manner, after which the boys rested from their labors.
A camp-fire had been built, and Jet was lying inside the shanty where the smoke would not disturb him, while Jim remained outside to "brighten the blaze" whenever the fuel should bum too low.
Both were enjoying the luxury of repose when an exclamation from the guide caused the amateur detective to glance quickly toward the water's edge.
That which he saw was sufficient to cause his heart to beat rapidly.
Bob, with his gun thrown carelessly over his shoulder, was coming directly toward them.