“That’s a fact,” admitted George. “And, fellows, I’m coming around to Jack’s way of thinking. I just bet Tricky Clarence was behind that show.”
“Oh! well, let’s try to forget it for tonight,” Jack observed; “and as it’s now just one o’clock, George and Nick will have to take their turn on guard.”
“Sure,” replied Buster, cheerfully. “Sleep and me have parted company for the rest of this night, after what I saw. So it’s me for a four hour stretch; Herb, you can snooze right along till sun-up, if you want.”
“Oh! can I? Thanks,” laughed the one addressed, with a touch of skepticism in his voice; for he knew only too well what a difference there was between Buster’s promises and the keeping of them; he always meant well, but found the flesh weak.
And it proved just as wise Herb supposed would be the case; when the time came for George to go off duty he found Nick fast asleep; so that Herb had to be aroused by repeated calls and punching of the side of the Comfort.
Then daylight came; but according to Jack’s arrangements no one was aroused until the hour of five, when the sun was well up. July days are long indeed in this northern clime, and the twilight lingers until nearly nine in the evening.
“Who’s going to try the fishing today?” asked Jack, as they were partaking of their bacon and egg breakfast, a supply of the hen fruit having been obtained on the previous day from a Canadian farmer, near whose place the little fleet of motor boats had stopped.
“Why, Herb and myself talked of going, if so be you’d post us about the best trolling ground,” George remarked.
“Tell you all I know about it,” replied Jack, readily enough. “But if you are lucky enough to strike a big musky like the one I got, you’ll have your hands full. Better take the gaff hook along. I wished many times yesterday I had it.”
“Will we, George?” asked Herb, in a vein of sarcasm.