Harry stared at his friend in some astonishment.

"On second thought, though," concluded Reade, "you needn't duck
me. You may postpone it. I'm going bass fishing the very instant
that the canoe is judged to be safe."

"And I'll be the bass-hunting pin-head who merely does the paddling,"
proposed Danny Grin meekly.

"I guess you're the biggest pin-head in camp, all right---after
myself," nodded Reade. "So we ought to hit it off as bass fishermen,
Danny boy."

"Fellows," hinted Dick judicially, "I think we had better turn
the canoe over to Tom for the first trip. His craze to go bass
fishing is so acute that it fairly pains him. Tom can have the
first trip, can't he?"

There was a general assent. Tom darted away to overhaul such
tackle as he had for bass fishing. He came back with a small
but tough jointed rod, some very long lines, and some flashily,
bright spoons.

"Danny, get a shovel and dig for some grubs," Tom ordered, as
he sorted tackle. "When you can't fool black bass with one thing
you must try another. If you fellows see any tiny chubs swimming
about in the little coves here, try to get a lot of them. We
can keep them in a bucket of water. Perch? Bah! The real fishing
is about to begin now!"