"We ought to make that little lake by the afternoon, oughtn't we, Tom?"

the scout master asked, as he plodded along at the side of the patrol leader.

Another consultation of the map Tom carried followed, and it was decided that they must be within a half a mile of the water. Ten minutes later Josh declared he had caught a glimpse of the sun shining on dancing wavelets; and shortly afterwards a sudden turn brought them in full view of the pond.

It was hardly more than that, covering perhaps ten acres; but the boys declared they had never set eyes on a prettier sight as they arrived on the near sh.o.r.e, and proceeded to make a camp there.

"If we only had a canoe up here what a great time we'd have fishing,"

said Josh, who was particularly fond of casting a fly for a trout or ba.s.s, and scorned to use the humble angleworm, as ordinary fishermen do.

"What's the matter with taking a log and straddling the same?" asked Tom. "Three of us could manage it, one to troll with a spoon, another to cast near the sh.o.r.e and the third to paddle the log."

"Let's try that in the morning," suggested Josh, eagerly; "it's too late in the day to have any great luck now. But I like the looks of that pond--and I think we might get a good string of fish from it, if the wind's right."

That night their fire glowed upon the border of the water. It was a new experience, and the boys, seeing Tom busily engaged in writing, told him to do full justice to the theme, for it deserved to be recorded exactly in the way they saw it.

It was a comfortable night they spent by the pond, in sharp contrast to the preceding one when flattened out under the rocky ledges. Every one got a good sound night's sleep, so that when morning came they were in prime condition for the work of the day.

"We'll stay here to-day and not go on for another twenty-four hours,"

decided the scout master, as they sat around eating breakfast.

"For one I'm glad to hear that," said Felix; "I can hike as well as the next fellow; but just the same when I'm off for pleasure I don't like to keep moving all the time. This suits me first-rate. Then I expect to do some paddling when we find the right sort of a log, with Josh at the bow casting his flies, and Tom at the stern trolling his phantom minnow along."

The log needed was easily found, and was rolled down, to be launched in the pond. A rude paddle was also cut, with the aid of the ax and a sharp knife. Felix declared he could make it answer the purpose; so presently the enterprising scouts composing the fishing party went forth, followed by the best wishes of their mates.

"Fix it so we have a fish dinner to-night, fellows!" Billy b.u.t.ton called out.

"If you're wise you'll not make up your mouth that way; then there's no danger of being disappointed," said George. "I never expect anything, and so I meet with pleasant surprises once in a while."

Perhaps since the days of old Robinson Crusoe a more remarkable fishing party never started out than that one. The three boys had taken off shoes and socks, and rolled up their trousers above their knees.

Straddling the log, Felix used his paddle, and, sure enough, the clumsy craft moved along fast enough to answer their desires.

Tom let out his line and trolled, while Josh began to cast with great animation, sending his trailing flies close to the sh.o.r.e, and drawing them toward him in fine style.

Presently he struck and managed to land a fair-sized ba.s.s. Then Tom caught a larger one on his imitation minnow. The fun began to wax furious, so that once both the anglers chanced to be busily engaged with fish they had hooked at the same time.

It was while this was going on, and their string had already reached respectable proportions, that the boys on the log heard a sound far away, up on the side of the mountain, which caused Josh to exclaim:

"That's a pack of dogs yapping, and they're hot on the track of some sort of game, too! It may be only a poor little cottontail, but we'll soon know, for they're heading straight in our direction. Whew! listen to the yelps they give!"

"There's something in the lake over yonder, and coming this way, too!"

exclaimed Felix "Can it be a muskrat, Tom, do you think, swimming on top of the water?"

"Not much it isn't!" cried Josh from the bow of the novel craft; "it's a deer I tell you, a stag with half-grown antlers, taking to the water to escape from the hounds."

CHAPTER XIX

FRIENDS OF THE DEER

"Yes, its a buck," announced Tom, as a shout from the camp told that one of the other scouts had also discovered the swimming animal.

"Whew! there come the dogs along the sh.o.r.e!" cried Felix, pointing as he spoke to where a number of swiftly-moving objects could be seen.

"They've taken to the water after the deer!" exclaimed Josh.

"It'll be a shame if they manage to catch up with the poor thing in the pond!" Felix declared; "we ought to break that game up somehow. Isn't there a way?"

"If we had a canoe instead of a log we might get between, and keep the dogs back," he was told by the patrol leader; "but I'm afraid we'll never be able to make it at this rate."

Felix had started paddling furiously even while the other was speaking.

The novel craft began to move through the water much faster than at any previous time. It was really surprising how much speed it could show, when driven by that stout, if homely, paddle, held in the hands of a muscular and excited scout.

Tom gave directions as though he were the pilot, and while the swimming buck certainly saw them approaching he must have considered that these human enemies were not to be feared one-half as much as those merciless hounds following after him, for he swerved very little.

"We're going to cut in between the deer and the dogs after all, boys!"

cried the delighted Josh, who was bending his body with every movement of the paddler, as though he hoped to be able in that fashion to a.s.sist the drive.

"It's a pity we didn't think to bring another paddle along!" was Tom's comment, "for that would have added considerably to our progress."

As it was, however, they managed to intervene between the hounds and the frightened buck. Josh waved both arms, and shouted threateningly at the eager dogs. They possibly did not know what to make of it, for as a rule their masters probably tempted them to chase a deer even with the law against hounding in force.

"Keep back there, you greedy curs!" yelled Josh; and as Tom and Felix joined in the shouting, the last mentioned also waving his flashing paddle, the swimming dogs came to a pause.

Whenever they made a start as though intending to sweep past the log on which the three scouts were perched, Felix, waiting for some such move, paddled vigorously to head them off. This series of obstructive tactics, coupled with the demonstration made by the other boys, served to keep the hounds in check for a certain length of time.

"There, he's made the sh.o.r.e across on the other side of the pond!"

announced Tom.

Looking that way the boys saw the harried buck hasten out of the shallow water. He turned once on the very edge to give a single glance back toward the baffled dogs, still swimming aimlessly about, and yapping in defeat, then leaped lightly into the undergrowth and vanished from sight.

"Good-bye!" shouted Josh, waving his hand after the rescued deer, "and good luck!"

The dogs by this time had managed to flank the obstruction.

"No use chasing after them any more, Felix," said Tom; "I think the deer has a good lead on them now, and will easily make his escape."

They watched the pack swim to the sh.o.r.e, and noted that they came out at some little distance from the spot where the buck had left the water.

"That's going to delay them still more," announced Tom; "they've lost the scent, and will have to chase up and down hunting for it."

Sure enough the hounds ran first one way with their noses to the ground, then doubled back. It was several minutes before a triumphant yelp announced that they had finally struck the lost trail.

"There they go with a rush!" said Josh, as the pack was seen to start off, following the course taken by the deer.

Their eager yelps became less distinct as they skirted around the foot of Big Bear Mountain.