own us that there are fish to be
had for the taking," said Tom. "I'll hunt up that canoe while you get
the rods and reels ready. What are you going to try for first, pickerel
or bass?"

"Suppose we take a hack at both," suggested Dick. "I'll get out the spoon
bait and try for pike and pickerel. You and Bert can use the live bait
and see what luck you have with the bass."

A careful search revealed the canoe, so cunningly hidden by its owner
under a heap of brush and sedge-grass, that only the explicit directions
they had received enabled them to find it. It was in good condition,
about eighteen feet in length and two paddles lay in the bottom. Tom got
in, pushed off from the shore, and with deft strokes brought the slender
craft down to where his friends were waiting.

Bert eyed the frail boat dubiously.

"A canoe is a dandy thing for cruising in, especially if you want to get
somewhere in a hurry, but it was never meant for a fishing party," he
commented. "We'd have to be so careful in moving about that we couldn't
keep our mind on the sport. You couldn't play a bass from one without
danger of upsetting. I tell you what we'd better do. Let one of us fish
from the shore for bass, while the two others in the canoe troll for
pickerel. Two lines can be put out over the stern and one can paddle
gently while the other keeps a sharp eye on the lines. Between us all we
ought to get a mess in less than no time. We'll toss up to see which
shall do the lonesome act while the others use the canoe. At noontime
we'll have a fish fry right here on the shore to help us out with the
lunch. The one who catches the first fish gets out of doing any of the
work. The one who gets the next will have to do the cooking and the one
that trails in last will have to clean the fish. What do you say?"

There was no dissenting voice, and the spinning coin decreed that Tom and
Dick should do the trolling, while Bert remained on shore and tried for
bass.

With the polished spoons twinkling in the water behind, the canoe shot
out to the center of the lake. Bert carefully baited his hook and cast it
far out from shore. Then, with the happy optimism of the average
fisherman, he settled back and waited for results.

Contrary to the usual experience, those results were not long in coming.
Tom was the first to score. The spoon at the end of his line dipped
violently, and, hauling it in rapidly, he yanked in a big pickerel. He
did not dare to shout,