"Guess he don't dast come," put in another.
"Why?" asked Will curiously.
"He got into trouble, I hear, and the authorities want him."
"Nothing of the sort," the first man declared. "Paddy is as straight as a fish pole. More likely it's the other way round and he's staying away so as not to make trouble for some one else."
"Maybe," agreed the second man. "Anyhow he isn't around."
"That's true enough."
With their fish the young people started back in the ice boat, Will finding out, by talking with the other lumbermen, that Paddy Malone had not been seen in some time.
The fresh fish were indeed a welcome addition to the table that night, the boys having their share. "We'll have to try this sport to-morrow," decided Will, when he had cleaned off his plate the second time. "They're great!"
Accordingly the next day the boys chopped holes in the ice, and with baited hooks attached to springy branches, set in the ice, with a piece of cloth, that, by its bobbing gave indication of a bite, planned for a big catch. The visual signals enabled each lad to set several hooks.
But either they were not in the right place, or they did not use the right bait, for two small fish were all they caught.