After this there was but little trouble in getting the remaining shoe, and with this aboard they sent the rowboat out into the lake and lost no time in finishing their dressing.

"This was a truly horrible experience," was Sam's comment, after the excitement had died down. "Gracious, I feel as if the snakes were crawling around me this minute!"

"Don't say that," said Fred with a shudder. "You make me feel as if there was another snake in my shirt."

"The best thing to do is to forget the snakes," put in Songbird Powell.

"Let us row around to the other side of the lake."

All were willing, and soon the vicinity was left far behind. Then they came to where a fair sized brook flowed into Ba.s.s Lake, and here they came to anchor and began to fish, while Powell took several photographs.

"I have always found it good fishing near a brook like that," said Tom.

"The fish come around looking for food from the brook."

Tom's remark was evidently true, for in less than an hour each of the boys had a good sized string of fish to his credit.

In the excitement of the sport the cadets forgot all about the adventure with the snakes, nor did they pay much attention to the flight of time until Fred Garrison glanced at his watch.

"Gee Christopher!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"What time is it?" asked Powell.

"Half-past four."

"And we promised to be back at five-thirty!" put in Sam. "We'll have to hustle, fellows."

"Oh, we can get back in an hour easily enough," put in Tom.

"But we've got to clean out the boat and clean up ourselves," came from Fred. "Come, fellows, wind up and put away your hooks and poles."

He started and the others followed. Then Fred and Powell took the oars, and the return to camp was begun. Not caring to go back the same way they had come, they sped along the opposite sh.o.r.e of the lake, where were located several coves and cliffs of rock.

"This is as pretty as the other sh.o.r.e," remarked Songbird. And he began:

"Oh, dreamy days in summer time, When purling brooks and shady nooks--"

"If you start up again I'll jump overboard," interrupted Tom.

"Do so, you need a cooling off," grunted Powell; but that was the end of the poetry for the time being.

They were just pa.s.sing one of the coves when they caught sight of a man sitting on an overhanging tree, fishing.

"Hullo, what luck?" cried Fred, good-naturedly.

"Fair," was the somewhat surly answer. Then, as the man caught sight of the others in the boat, he turned his head away.

"That fellow looks familiar to me," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sam, in sudden and strong excitement.

"And he looks familiar to me, too," exclaimed Tom.

"Do you think it is Arnold Baxter?"

"If it isn't, it's his double," went on Tom. "Row the boat over quick, boys."

"Who is this Arnold Baxter? The father of Dan Baxter?" questioned Fred.

"The same, Fred."

"The fellow who escaped from prison, or the hospital?" asked Powell.

"That's the chap."

Without delay the rowboat was turned in toward the overhanging tree.

Scarcely had this been done when the fisherman pulled in his line with all speed, took up his string of fish and ran into the bushes between two cliffs of rocks.

"He is getting out, and in a hurry too!" said Fred.

"Hi, there, stop! We want to talk to you!" sang out Tom, at the top of his lungs.

"Ain't got time," roared back the strange fisherman, and on the instant he was gone.

"It must have been Arnold Baxter, beyond a doubt," said Sam.

"If it was, what is he doing here?" questioned his brother.

"He's keeping out of the reach of the law," answered Powell. "I suppose he thought he was perfectly safe in such an out-of-the-way place as this."

"And he was fishing just to kill time," put in Fred.

"I'd like to go after him and make sure," went on Tom. "What do you say, Sam?"

"I am with you."

"But we may be late--" began Fred.

"Oh, Captain Putnam will excuse us when I tell him what delayed us."

The rowboat soon reached the sh.o.r.e, and Sam and Tom leaped to the brushwood, where the trail of the vanished fisherman was plainly to be seen.

It was decided that Fred and Powell should remain in charge of the rowboat, so that n.o.body might come and make off with the craft. Leaving their fishing outfits behind them the two Rover boys struck out through the bushes, and soon gained a narrow forest path running through the woods that skirted this section of Ba.s.s Lake.

"I wish we could catch Baxter," said Tom, on the way. "It would be a feather in our cap, Sam."

"We must be careful. More than likely he is armed, and he won't hesitate to shoot if he is cornered."

"Oh, I know that. The most we can do is to follow him until we reach some place where we can summon a.s.sistance."

The path led deeper and deeper into the woods and then along a fairsized brook. They kept their eyes wide open, but could see nothing excepting a number of birds and an occasional squirrel or chipmunk.

Once they heard the distant bark of a fox and this was the only sound that broke the stillness.