“But I thank you ever so much, old fellow; you’re so obliging,” said Will.
“Well, I’d like to get one of the boats out, and try the fish. What are you going to do, now?” asked the other.
“I’ll tell you. I’ve got some flashlight contrivances here that have been used successfully, they tell me, in making wild game photograph themselves. Just think how great that would be. The thing is set with a sort of trigger, you see. As the ’coon or other beast creeps up along the log to get the piece of meat, he crosses a string that sets the flash afire. It’s all over in a second, and there’s your nice picture of Mr. Coon sitting up and looking startled.”
“Huh! you believe you can do all that, do you?” asked Bluff, the skeptic.
“Why not, when others have met with great success. I’ve read up on the subject, and think I’ve got it all down pat. Anyhow, no harm done in trying.”
“Of course not. Well, I’m going to leave this gun of Jerry’s in your charge, as I’ll hardly need it out on the lake. First I expect to dig some worms, and then try for the perch, just to see if they’ve wakened up from their winter’s nap.”
“You won’t go far away, I hope?” remarked Will, a little nervously.
“See that point yonder? Well, off that I believe the perch are waiting for me. I remember catching a bully mess there last Spring when several of us came down here fishing. If you want me at any time just give a call and I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”
So Bluff went off to dig his worms in a promising spot, while Will began to get things in readiness for the clever little trick he intended to play upon B’rer ’Coon or Mr. ’Possum.
Half an hour later Bluff was anchored off the point. He found the perch ravenous, as they usually are after a winter’s sojourn under the ice; and it kept him busy right along pulling in the wriggling, barred poachers, or baiting the hooks they denuded.