"I knew you were going away," said Dr. Bentley, "but I didn't
know just where. We are touring again, in my seven-passenger
car. We are headed for the St. Clair Lake House, eight miles
below here. But the roads are so bad that the chauffeur said
it would take us more than an hour to get through. So I proposed
to Mrs. Bentley and the girls that we leave the car at the road
and cross over here to have our luncheon on the shore of this
second lake. I have been here before, and remember it as a beautiful
spot. Mrs. Bentley and the girls started on ahead, and I brought
up the rear with the baskets of food. But they got further ahead
of me than I thought. Now I must go back after the baskets, which
I set down before I started to run here. Greg, will you go back
with me and help me bring the baskets?"

Greg at once accompanied the physician. When they came to the
spot, however, they found but one basket, and that nearly empty.
The second basket had disappeared altogether.

"Fine!" grunted Dr. Bentley. "Greg, our committee of two must
go back and report the disquieting news."

"Not so very disquieting, sir," smiled young Holmes. "We have
a camp full of food to offer you."

That invitation Dick and Dave very quickly seconded when the doctor
rejoined the party.

"Especially if you can eat trout, sir," Dick went on.