“Are you going to sail all night?” asked Jack.
“No,” replied the professor. “I think we’ll descend very soon now, and camp out for a while. That lake just ahead seems to offer a good place,” and he pointed to a large sheet of water that sparkled in the distance, for by this time they had all gone back to the conning tower.
The lake was in the midst of a wood that extended for some distance on all sides, and was down in a sort of valley. The ship headed toward it, and in a short time a landing was made close to shore.
“Maybe we can have some fresh fish for supper,” exclaimed Jack as he ran from the ship as soon as the sliding door in the side was opened. “Looks as if that lake had some in it. It is not thick water like in that stream we stopped at,” he added.
“I believe you’re right,” old Andy put in, as he turned back to look for some lines and hooks among his traps. He soon found what he wanted, and gave them to the boys, taking his trusty gun along for himself.
While the professor, Washington, Tom and Bill remained behind to make some adjustments to the machinery, and to get things in shape for the night, which, they calculated would soon be upon them, Jack, Mark and Andy went down to the shore of the lake. The boys cut some poles from the trees, and baiting the hooks with some fat worms found under the bark, threw in.
“Let’s see who’ll get the first bite,” spoke Jack. “I’m pretty generally lucky at fishing.”
“Well, while you’re waiting to decide that there contest, I think I’ll take a stroll along shore and see if I can see anything to shoot,” Andy remarked.
For several minutes the boys sat in silence on the bank of the lake, watching the play of the vari-colored lights on the water. Suddenly Jack felt a quiver on his line, and his pole began to shake.
“I’ve got something!” he cried. Then his pole bent almost double and he began to pull for all he was worth. “It’s a whopper!” he cried. “Come and help me, Mark!”