Young Hunters of the Lake by Ralph Bonehill
page 67 of 228 (29%)
page 67 of 228 (29%)
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"Say, you make me duck-hungry already!" cried Whopper. "Let's go on, unless we are going to stay here for the rest of the day." Once again the oars were taken up, and with scarcely a sound they moved along the shore of the lake. The sun was now well over to the hills in the west, and the trees along the shore cast long shadows over the rippling surface. "No use of talking, such a spot as this is a regular Paradise," was Snap's comment. "I can tell you, there isn't anything like a life in the open!" "Especially when it rains," suggested Giant. "Or when you're caught in a blizzard," added Shep. "Do you remember that blizzard last Christmas?" "Will we ever forget it," answered Giant. "Just the same, what Snap says is true---give me such an outing as this every time. Some fellows are always hankering after the city---but I never did." An hour later the young hunters reached the end of the lake, where a small, rocky watercourse joined that body of water to Firefly Lake. Here they went into camp, pitching their tent in a convenient spot among the trees. Over a bright campfire they cooked some of the fish to a turn, and took their time eating the meal. Then they sat around and chatted, and Giant told his chums something which interested them not a little. |
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