"Bend your head a little. Now, look pleasant, as a fellow should after
slaying a couple of ferocious wildcats. Ready? Then here she goes!"
Snap!
Bluff had been posing, with Jerry's gun in his hands. At his feet,
artistically stretched out, were the two defunct invaders of the night
camp. Will had his camera in position, and was taking a snapshot of the
mighty Nimrod.
"After all it's only a big fake, for I never had a hand in the killing
at all," declared Bluff, with a laugh.
"Fake? No more than most of the pictures you see, where some well-known
person is photographed with a big bear at his feet, or perhaps it's a
moose. I guess I know. But it gives me a picture, and neither Jerry nor
Frank would bother posing. You're really the only accommodating pard in
camp, Bluff," remarked Will.
"Oh, rats! you only say that because you can smooth me over, and get me
to consent to helping you out in these dreadful frauds of pictures. I
reckon I'll never hear the last of it if Mame Crosby ever learns how I
stood for this, when others claimed the game," grunted Bluff.
"But I thank you ever so much, old fellow; you're so obliging," said
Will.
"Well, I'd like to get one of the boats out, and try the fish. What are
you going to do, now?" asked the other.
"I'll tell you. I've got some flashlight contrivances here that have
been used successfully, they tell me, in making wild game photograph
themselves. Just think how great that would be. The thing is set with a
sort of trigger, you see. As the 'coon or other beast creeps up along
the log to get the piece of meat, he crosses a string that sets the
flash afire. It's all over in a second, and there's your nice picture of
Mr. Coon sitting up and looking startled."
"Huh! you believe you can do all that, do you?" asked Bluff, the
skeptic.
"Why not, when others have met with great success. I've read up on the
subject, and think I've got it all down pat. Anyhow, no harm done in
trying."
"Of course not. Well, I'm going to leave this gun of Jerry's in your
charge, as I'll hardly need it out on the lake. First I expect to dig
some worms, and then try for the perch, just to see if they've wakened
up from their winter's nap."
"You won't go far away, I hope?" remarked Will, a little nervously.
"See that point yonder? Well, off that I believe the perch are waiting
for me. I remember catching a bully mess there last Spring when several
of us came down here fishing. If you want me at any time just give a
call and I'll be with you in a jiffy."
So Bluff went off to dig his worms in a promising spot, while Will began
to get things in readiness for the clever little trick he intended to
play upon B'rer 'Coon or Mr. 'Possum.
Half an hour later Bluff was anchored off the point. He found the perch
ravenous, as they usually are after a winter's sojourn under the ice;
and it kept him busy right along pulling in the wriggling, barred
poachers, or baiting the hooks they denuded.
It was getting along toward noon when he fancied he detected the odor of
cooking in the air.
"Let him have a try at it; I guess it's up to Will to show how much he
has learned in the cooking line since last Fall. He's a green hand, and
it's about time he took hold. I'm comfortable here. When grub's ready
he'll call me," was what the sly Bluff was saying to himself, as he kept
his back turned toward the camp, and continued to tempt the perch.
"Hey! you, Bluff!" came a shout just then.
"What d'ye want, bothering me in that way?" demanded the fisherman.
"For goodness' sake come ashore and give me a hand. I can't find any
more dishes, and the pesky thing still keeps bubbling over. Come quick,
or we'll be smothered under a mountain of it!" shouted the one on shore.
"Now what under the sun has the fellow been up to?" said Bluff to
himself, as he pulled in his anchor, and used the paddle to urge the
canoe ashore.
When he strode into the camp a minute or so later he stared, and then
burst into a shout of laughter as he dropped upon the ground and rolled
about.
"Well, I don't see anything so funny about it," declared Will, in an
aggrieved tone as he looked at the various kettles and dishes heaped
high with boiled rice, and the kettle on the fire still pouring up its
white contents like a miniature volcano in action. "I never knew rice
would expand like that. Why, it's dreadful the way it keeps boiling
over. What can we do to hold the stuff?"
"Say, how much did you put in the kettle?" gasped Bluff, when he could
speak.
"All there was, and even then I wondered if there would be any left for
the rest."
Bluff acted as though he would have a fit.
"All there was," he shouted, "that beats anything I ever heard. And
Frank said the grocery-man had doubled his order, and put up _four
pounds_! Say, we'll have rice every way under the sun up to the day we
pull up stakes and get out of here. Still she boils! If you don't take
care the blooming thing'll put the fire out."
Finally he condescended to help poor Will, and some of the rice was
scooped out of the kettle, relieving the congestion. Still, what to do
with the vast quantity of half-cooked rice was a question calculated to
appall Will during the balance of the day.
He finally compromised by secretly burying a large portion where he
calculated none of his chums would find it again.
Bluff assisted in getting some lunch ready, and Will was very meek after
that experience. He grimly determined that he would pay more attention
to what the others were doing when preparing meals, and by degrees learn
the secret of cooking.
"Did you get your little game trap set?" asked Bluff after they had
eaten, and lay around taking it easy.
"Everything is ready for the coming of the night. I'll expect to find
the cheap little camera which I brought along for that especial purpose,
doing its work. No matter, it's worth a trial, anyway. Nothing ventured,
nothing gained," remarked Will.
"Rice, for instance," ventured Bluff, turning his head to look at the
great snow-white heap that covered a spread-out newspaper nearby, since
they had to empty the cooking utensils which Will had filled one after
the other.
"Oh! I admit that was a fine joke on me, all right, and I suppose I'll
have to just stand the digs of the boys for a while. But it's spurred me
on, and sooner or later I'm bound to be a _chef_ worth mentioning. I
guess they haven't found any sort of game on their trip around the
island, do you?"
"I heard no shot to tell of it," admitted Bluff. He was lying on his
back and apparently ready for a nap.
"It was some hot out there on the water, son, and I'm inclined to be
dopy. Please keep on guard while I take a dozen winks," he said, pulling
his hat over his face.
His dozen winks stretched out for some two hours. During this time Will
busied himself in reading a little book on camp cookery which he had
brought along. It looked as though he were about to study up on the
subject in earnest.
Finally Bluff gave a grunt, began to move and stretch himself, and then
sat up.
"Hello! I guess I must have been asleep," he remarked.
Will drew out his little nickel watch and surveyed it.
"Two hours and thirteen minutes to the dot. A few winks, eh? When am I
going to get my chance to indulge?" he demanded, sternly.
"Now, if the spirit moves. But I see you have been busy 'conning' that
volume of camp recipes. Any dishes that call for rice there, because
we've got it and to spare. I always liked boiled rice, with sugar and
milk, even the condensed kind; but there can be too much of a good
thing. I'll be like the old dominie soon whose people fed him on rabbit
every place he went."
"How was that?" asked Will.
"Never heard that story? Well, you see, they knew he liked rabbit, so
every place he ate, his host made sure to have his favorite dish. Of
course the good man hated to tell them that he was getting sick of the
taste of rabbit; so what d'ye think he finally hit on as a delicate way
of getting a change?"
"I give it up; now tell me," declared Will.
"When he found it before him the next time he bowed his head and this
was the grace he said: 'Of rabbits young, of rabbits old; of rabbits
hot, of rabbits cold; of rabbits tender and rabbits tough, I thank the
Lord we've had enough!'"
"That must have fetched them, all right. Now, if any one puts up a howl
here about rice, I'm going to bury the balance of it, mark my words.
What ails you, Bluff?" demanded Will, as his companion started half to
his knees, and crouching there stared through the leaves of the
low-growing trees that concealed the camp from the lake.
"Look yonder, and see! H'sh! not another word!" he murmured.
Will crept to a place beside him, and, finding an opening, also used his
eyes to advantage. What he saw would have annoyed any of the boys,
considering the fact that they had hoped for a period of peace while
camping on Wildcat Island.
A large rowboat was just passing that side of the island. It had come
from up the lake somewhere, and was filled with a crowd of rough-looking
boys.
"Pet Peters and his crowd again. They gave us all the trouble they could
last Fall when we were in camp above the lumber docks, and now they've
hunted us up again to annoy us," breathed Will, as soon as he saw who
occupied the rowboat. "But Andy Lasher isn't with them--he's away on a
visit, somebody told me."
Bluff had reached out and picked up Jerry's shotgun.
"They seem to be looking in here pretty hard," continued Will.
"I guess they know we're here, and they've got some mean trick up their
sleeve; but possession's nine points of the law, and we don't get out to
please those rowdies," said Bluff between set teeth.