Shep caught three perch hand running while Giant did not get a nibble. The small member of the club was somewhat disappointed, but suddenly there came a tug that almost pulled him into the lake.
"Got something!" he sang out. "Must be a whale!"
"Maybe it's a maskalonge!" sang out Whopper. "Want any help?"
"No," was the reply, and then Giant began to play his catch with the skill of a natural born fisherman. Soon came a deft swing of the fishing rod and out on the grassy bank landed a lake pickerel of good size.
"A pickerel!" cried Snap. "And a beauty."
"That's better than my three perch," was Shep's comment. "Giant, you're the fisherman of this club and no mistake."
The two boys continued to fish, both before lunch and after, and when they finally wound up their lines they had nine perch, two chub and two pickerel—certainly a very respectable haul.
"That means fish for both supper and breakfast," was Snap's comment. "They'll taste fine, too, coming right out of the water."
Having put away the things used in getting lunch, the four boy hunters embarked once more,
