was holding up a
two-pound, struggling pickerel.

"First blood for Abe!" cried Tom. "But if they keep on biting it'll be
our chance soon, Jack. My stars! but that is a beaut, though. A dozen
like that would make the boys stare, I tell you."

When Abe had arranged four lines he would not hear of the boys cutting
any more holes.

"I'll dig out a couple to make an even half dozen," he told them. "And
the way the pike are biting to-day I reckon we'll get a good mess."

"All right, then," agreed Tom, much relieved, for he wanted to be
pulling in the fish rather than doing the drudgery. "I'll look after
these two holes, Jack, and you skirmish around the others. And by
jinks! if I haven't got one right now!"

"The same here," shouted the equally excited Jack. "Whew! how he does
pull though! Must be a whopper this time. I hope I don't lose him!"

Fortune favored the ice fishermen, for both captives were saved, and
they proved to be even larger than the first one taken.

So the fun went on. At times it slackened more or less, only to begin
again with new momentum. The pile of fish on the ice, rapidly
freezing, once they were exposed to the air, increased until at noon
they had all they could think of carrying home.

"The rest of the day we'll take things easy, and lay in a stock for
Abe here," suggested Tom; for the guide had told them he meant to cure
as many of the fish as he could secure, since later on in the winter
they would be much more difficult to catch, and it would be a long
time until April came with its break-up of the ice.

The boys certainly enjoyed every minute of their stay at the lake.
Jack was wise enough to know that they had better start for camp about
three o'clock. It might not be quite so easy going back, as they would
be tired, and the wind was against them.

They had skated for over half an hour, with their heavy packs on their
backs, when again Tom called to his comrade to listen.

"And believe me it wasn't a fox that time, Jack!" he declared, "but,
as sure as you live, it sounded like somebody calling weakly for
help!"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE HELPING HAND OF A SCOUT

When Jack, listening, caught the same sound, he turned upon his
companion with a serious expression on his face.

"Let's kick off our skates and hang our packs up in the crotch of this
tree, Tom," he said.

"Then you expect to investigate, and find out what it means, do you?"

"We'd feel pretty mean if we went on