"MILLIONS FOR DEFENSE!"
That was indeed a busy day for all of the boys in camp.
They had numerous things that they wished to do, and turned from one to another in rotation. It might have been noticed too, that they were a little nervous for all they made light of the possibility of meeting some strange beast whenever they went away from the camp ground.
This was shown particularly when Steve and Toby took a notion during the middle of the morning that they would try the fishing over at the pond. If the pickerel declined to bite they might at least pick up some good-sized frogs; so they went prepared for both things; but they also took their guns along, which was a little strange, because they would hardly need them in trying to land either fish or frogs.
Steve had his minnow seine, with which they could doubtless secure plenty of live bait. Then from selected positions along the bank they meant to cast their lines out, hoping to land a few finny prizes that would vary the bill of fare for supper.
All of this was carried out to the letter; the minnows were easily secured, and kept alive in a little shallow pond made by banking up mud on the border of the larger sheet of water. Then they baited their hooks, and cast out, with the fisherman's habitual hope actuating their actions.
The pickerel proved to be both hungry and accommodating, for they soon began to take hold savagely. Several fine fish were landed after a fierce struggle that afforded the anglers more or less pleasure; and they felt encouraged to keep up the sport, assured of plenty for a meal.
When the fish were taken from the hooks they were strung on a stout cord, and kept in the water, so that they would remain fresh longer. Toby would not keep far away from this place long at a time.
"What ails you anyway?" Steve several times called out; "why don't you try a new place like I do?"
Finally the stuttering boy condescended to inform him.