The High School Boys' Fishing Trip Part 14

"The sneak!"

"The coward! He fights only when he has his gang with him."

"I don't see what the high school fellows can find to admire in that crowd," quivered Bayliss, tenderly fingering his damaged eye.

"Never mind what anyone thinks of them!" raged Bert Dodge. "We've nothing but our own side of the affair to settle!"

"What do you mean?" asked Bayliss curiously.

"Bayliss, what do you think I am?"

"Oh, I guess you're a pretty good sort of fellow, Bert."

"Do you think I'd let business like to-night's go by without resenting it?"

"Are you going to try to take Prescott on again?" Bayliss asked wonderingly.

"I'm not a fool!" retorted Dodge indignantly. "Prescott might thrash me again. Bayliss, I'm going to hit him with the kind of club that he can't beat!"

"Is the club big enough to take care of Darrin, too?"

"I'm after the whole Prescott gang, for good measure!" Bert raged.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll let you in on it, Bayliss, when I have all the details planned---if you've nerve enough to do a man's part---of which I'm not too sure," Dodge finished under his breath.

"You may count on me for anything---anything that is prudent!"

Bayliss declared.

CHAPTER VII

THE BOX THAT SET THEM GUESSING

"Look at that!" cried Tom Reade, leaping up from the breakfast table so precipitately that he overturned his cup of coffee.

"What?" demanded Greg.

"Didn't you see that---out on the lake?" Tom demanded.

"I didn't see anything," Greg admitted.

"There it goes again!" cried Tom.

"Oh, I saw something rise from the water and fall back again,"

continued Greg.

"Do you know what it was?" Reade insisted.

"No."

"That was a black ba.s.s!" declared Reade, as though it were one of the seven wonders of the world.

"Keep cool, Reade," chaffed Danny Grin. "We all knew, that there are fish in the lake."

"But black ba.s.s-----" choked Tom.

"Are they any better eating than any other fish?" asked Hazelton.

"Not so much better," Reade confessed. "But black ba.s.s are gamey, and hard fish to land when you hook 'em!"

"They're no better food, but it's harder work to get them," laughed Greg. "Sit down, Tom, and keep cool"

"No real fisherman would ever talk that way," Tom insisted indignantly.

"The greatest charm about fis.h.i.+ng comes in hooking and landing the really good fighting fis.h.!.+"

"How much does a black ba.s.s weigh?" asked Greg.

"That one probably weighed four pounds. Look! look! There he goes again. Did you fellows see him?"

"There isn't any four pound fish in water that can give me a fight,"

Danny Grin a.s.serted solemnly. "I'd be ashamed to talk about having a fight with a four pound fish. It looks small and mean to me."

"Well, go after some ba.s.s, if they're so easy to catch," urged Greg. "I'll look on and see if you've over estimated your ability as a fisherman."

"You're a fine fisherman, aren't you?" demanded Tom scornfully.

"No fisherman at all," Holmes promptly confessed.

"If you knew the A-B-C of fis.h.i.+ng," Reade continued, "you'd know that one must have a boat in order to go after ba.s.s."

"Don't they ever come near enough to sh.o.r.e to be caught without the aid of a boat?" Danny Grin demanded.

Tom snorted.

"Tell me," insisted Dalzell.

"You're stringing me," protested Tom.

"No; I'm after information," Dan a.s.serted.

"If you really don't know," Tom resumed, "I'll tell you that black ba.s.s are generally caught only by trolling for them. That is, if I fish for ba.s.s I've got to keep playing my line over the stern while someone else rows the boat."

"You've a positive genius for picking out the easy half of the job," Danny Grin murmured admiringly.