In an incredibly short time the white tent was erected on the little bluff overlooking the lake. It was spacious with plenty of room for the four young campers and all their equipment, which was speedily stored away inside.
“How about a few fish for dinner?” exclaimed George, when the tent was in place. “Personally I think they’d taste pretty good.”
“Go ahead and catch some, then,” urged John. “I’ll help you eat them.”
“Oh, I didn’t worry about your not helping me out in that way,” laughed George. “That’s the least of my troubles. What bothers me is who is to clean the fish.”
“The man who catches them always cleans them,” said Fred.
“Oh, no, he doesn’t,” laughed George. “Not in this case, anyway.”
“How about the cook doing it?” inquired John.
“As I am to do the cooking all summer I can’t say I approve of that plan,” laughed Grant. “That seems a little bit too much.”
“Well, he hasn’t caught any fish yet, anyway,” said Fred. “Let him do that first and we’ll argue about them afterwards.”
“Where are you going to fish, Pop?” asked Grant.