The morning was slipping away fast, and they had not found any better
place to settle on for a camp. It seemed that, by the merest chance, they
had hit upon the best spot for a short stay on the island.

Three of the boys wandered along the shore, fishing. Paul had seen them
pull in several good-sized bass, and began to make up his mind that after
all they were going to have a fish dinner, if the luck held. He was even
debating whether he dared leave camp for a while, and taking his jointed
rod, joined the trio who had wandered around the bend of the eastern
shore of the island; for Paul certainly did love to feel a lively fish at
the end of his line, and could not think of leaving Lake Tokala without
giving its finny inhabitants a chance to get acquainted with him.

Just as he had about decided that he could be spared for the hour that
still remained until noon, Paul thought he heard a shout. Now, the
scouts had more than a few times given tongue during the morning, when
engaged in some boisterous game; but it struck Paul, whose nerves were
always on the alert for such things, while this responsibility rested on
his shoulders, that there was certainly a note, as of alarm, about this
particular outcry.

It seemed to come from around that bend, too, where he had seen the three
boys disappear. Even as he looked in that direction, he saw something
come in sight among the rocks that lay so thickly around. It was Gusty
Bellows, one of the anglers; yes, and there was Little Billie just behind
him, taking great leaps that promised to speedily leave the other far in
the lurch.

Paul's heart seemed to stand still. Where was Jud, who had been in the