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The High School Boys' Fishing Trip, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 7. The Box That Set Them Guessing |
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_ 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 bass!" 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 bass-----" choked Tom. "Are they any better eating than any other fish?" asked Hazelton. "Not so much better," Reade confessed. "But black bass 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 fishing comes in hooking and landing the really good fighting fish!" "How much does a black bass 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 asserted 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 bass, 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 fishing," Reade continued, "you'd know that one must have a boat in order to go after bass." "Don't they ever come near enough to shore 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 asserted. "If you really don't know," Tom resumed, "I'll tell you that black bass are generally caught only by trolling for them. That is, if I fish for bass 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. "The trolling part of the job merely looks easy," Tom went on, good-humoredly. "The fellow who is doing the fisherman act must have all the brains, while the fellow at the oars may be a real dolt, for all he has to know. I'll take you out with me after black bass, Danny, if we can get hold of a boat one of these days." "Who'll do the rowing?" asked Dalzell suspiciously. "Naturally you will," was Reade's answer. "Can't we find a boat somewhere about here?" asked Hazelton eagerly. "I haven't seen one on any part of the lake that is visible from here," Prescott put in. "I don't know why, but this so called second lake doesn't seem to be a popular spot. There isn't a house to be seen anywhere along the shore on either side, and I doubt if there's a boat on this sheet of water." "I don't believe there is a boat, either---and just look at that!" cried Reade, as three distinct splashes about an eighth of a mile out showed how frequently the bass were leaping. "It's tough---not to have a chance at good sport!" declared Dave Darrin impatiently. "We fellows ought to search this old shore, anyway, to see if we can't find some sort of craft." "Come along, then!" urged Tom, leaping to his feet. "I can't stand this state of affairs much longer. Look at that, out there. Four bass jumping within fifteen seconds. This is cruelty to fishermen!" "Tom, you take Dan and Harry, and go up along the shore," proposed Dick. "I'll take the others with me, and we'll go down along the shore. Each party will walk and search for half an hour, and then return, unless we find a boat sooner." "Aren't you going to leave someone to watch the camp?" asked Danny Grin. "It is hardly necessary," decided Prescott. "But Bert Dodge-----" suggested Greg. "For Dodge to be out here so early he'd have to be up by five in the morning, and make an early start," Dick rejoined. "I don't believe he's industrious enough for that." "The camp will be all right," Dave agreed. "Of course," Tom assented. "Anyway, there's nothing here worth stealing that would be small enough to carry away." "Except the food," hinted Danny Grin. "This is too far off the main roads for tramps to come this way," Dick replied. So Dalzell, with a sigh, rose to accompany Reade and Hazelton. Dick and his two companions thoroughly explored the shore as far as they went on the lower part of the lake. From time to time Prescott consulted his watch. In all the time that they were out they passed only one building, a tumble-down, weather-beaten shack that looked as though it had not been inhabited in twenty years. Not even a vestige of a craft was found. "It's time to go back," said Dick at last. "Too bad we couldn't find anything." "There must have been boats on this lake at one time," hinted Dave, "or else there wouldn't be that broken-down old pier near the camp." "I guess there was a time when this lake was a fishing ground to supply the Gridley and other near-by markets," Dick went on. "But, fellows, there's a curious thing about these fish markets that I don't know whether you've noticed. There are several fish stores in Gridley, and yet in all of them you couldn't buy a pound of fish except the kinds that are caught in salt water. I wonder if there are any fish markets in this part of the country that make a specialty of fresh-water fish?" More slowly, Dick, Dave and Greg retraced their steps. "Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!" signaled Dick as they neared their camp. From away up the shore the answering "hoo hoo!" came faintly. "Tom didn't give up the search as easily as we did," commented Dave. "Poor old chap, he will be seriously disappointed if he hasn't found something that will float. He's the one sincere fisherman of the crowd, and the bass certainly have hypnotized him." "Race you back to camp," offered Dick. "Come back," laughed Dave, "and make a fair start." But Dick kept on, laughing back at his distanced comrades. Prescott ran like a deer, as was to be expected from one who had played left end on the invincible Gridley High School eleven. Just as he bounded on to the camp ground Dick's glance fell on a packing box some four feet long. "This doesn't belong here," he muttered, bounding forward, then dropping on one knee beside the box. In amazed wonder he read the following inscription, from a card tacked to the box: "Will Dick Prescott accept the enclosed and keep it as trustee for Dick & Co.? From a most appreciative friend---two of them, in fact!" "Now, what on earth can this be?" Dick demanded, as Dave reached his side. Darry read the message on the card with growing wonder. "Greg," directed Dick, "trot into the camp and get a hammer and the cold chisel. Hustle!" Full of curiosity, Greg Holmes carried out the order at a run. "Here you are!" panted Holmes. Dick took the cold chisel, placed the edge against one side of the lid, and was about to strike the first blow when Darry snatched the hammer from his hand. "What ails you?" Prescott demanded. "Suspicion," Dave replied dryly. "In fact, I've a bad case of suspiciousness." "What are you talking about?" Dick insisted. "I don't know," Dave admitted. "But I've something of a shivery hunch that perhaps we'd better not open that box." "What, then? Toss it into the lake?" "Even that might not be as foolish as it sounds to you," Darry went on. "How do we know what that box contains!" "We never will know until we open it," declared Greg impatiently. "And then we might be mighty sorry that we opened it," Dave continued. "You think that there is something suspicious about the box?" queried Prescott. "Oh, the box looks all right," Dave laughed. "But the contents might prove more than a disappointment. A real danger, for instance." "Do you really think so?" Dick mused wonderingly. "Well, let's not be too rash," Darrin urged. "When I try to think of the friends who might take the trouble to come away out here to leave something for us, about the dearest friends I can think of are---Dodge and Bayliss." "And what would they leave in the box for us?" pondered Prescott. "Anything from a nest of rattlesnakes to an infernal machine," Greg Holmes suggested. "That doesn't sound quite reasonable," Dick replied slowly. "Neither Dodge nor Bayliss amount to much, and both fellows are pretty mean; but do you imagine they would dare do anything that might come very close to murder? I don't." "Oh, well, open the box, then," Dave agreed. "Whatever may be in it of a dangerous nature, I'll stand by and take my share of it." "A few minutes won't make any difference," said Dick, rising and dropping hammer and chisel. "We'll wait until the rest of the fellows come in, and then we'll hold a pow-wow and vote on what's to be done." "Tom! Oh, Tom! Fellows! Hoo-hoo!" roared Greg, making a megaphone of his hands. "Wha-at's wa-anted?" came Reade's hail, still from a distance. "Hurry up!" yelled Greg. "Hustle. Big doings here!" "Have you found a boat?" came Tom's query. "No! But---hustle! Run!" Greg was alive with curiosity. He could not wait. If the box were to be opened only after a pow-wow, then the sooner the council were held the sooner the mystery of the box's contents would be solved. Tom, Dan and Harry came in at a trot. "What's all the row about?" Reade demanded. "That," stated Greg, pointing to the packing case. "What's in it?" asked Reade. "We don't know," said Dick. "I fail to see what's to hinder you from knowing," retorted Reade. "I see that you have the tools for opening the case at hand. What were you waiting for---my strong arm on the hammer? If so-----" While speaking Tom had been glancing at the inscription on the card. "I don't know just whether we ought to open it," Dave declared. "That box may come from Dodge and Bayliss, and we may be sorry that we meddled with it." "There may be something in that," agreed Reade, laying down hammer and chisel and rising. "But I wish we knew." "We all wish that," said Greg. "Well, what are we going to do?" inquired Hazelton. "Are we going to remain afraid of the box and shy away from it?" "I'm not afraid," replied Darrin, his color rising. "I'm willing to open it if you fellows say so." "Then what has kept you back so far?" Tom wanted to know. "If it's a job put up by Dodge and Bayliss, then I don't just like to be caught napping by them," Dave replied. "However, you fellows all get back a few rods---and here goes for little David to solve the box mystery." "Not!" advised Reade with emphasis. "I suppose we'll have to do something with this box, sometime, but I, for one, am in favor of considering the matter for a little while before we go any further. Dave, you are a foxy one, but I'm glad you are. It may save us all trouble." So the box lay there through the forenoon, and Dick & Co. did little else but wonder and guess as to its contents. Any member of Dick & Co. would have taken the risk of opening it, had he been chosen by his comrades to do so; but not one of them wanted one of the other fellows to take the risk. In the meantime Greg Holmes could scarcely curb his rising curiosity. _ |
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