During the summer early in the morning or just before sundown are the best times for fishing, and for that reason at most of the camps supper is served early.
At the time there were about twenty guests at the camp and they were all strangers to the boys as most of them were from distant cities. After an excellent supper they sought the landlord to see about engaging a canoe for the week.
“How far are we from the border?” Bob asked when the arrangements had been completed.
Pat Hogan laughed.
“Faith an’ ye’ll niver be iny nearer to it than ye were at supper time. Ye see the line runs right through the dining-room, so it does. One end of it in Canada an’ the tother in the United States.”
“I guess we ate supper in Canada then,” Jack laughed. “We were on the north side of the room.”
“Ye sure did thin,” Mr. Hogan assured him.
There were several canoes out on the lake during the evening and the trout were biting hungrily. The boys pulled into the wharf just before dark with a string of twelve trout, the largest tipping the scales at eight pounds and none under four.
“I’ll say that’s real fishing,” Jack declared as he held the big one up.
“We’ll take them up to the kitchen and then I’m going to hit the hay, even if it is only eight o’clock,” Bob said as he pulled the canoe from the water. “I’m tired and I don’t care who knows it.”