“I—–­I can’t,” gasped Giant.  “The line is twisted around my wrist!”

“Row for him, Shep!” called Snap.

He had scarcely spoken when the fish took another tack, dragging poor Giant toward the shore, some distance above the camp.  Snap and Whopper hurried in the direction, and as the little youth managed to get a footing near the beach they ran in up to their ankles and dragged him to safety.  Then all three began to haul in on the fishing line.

“I see what it is!” cried Snap.  “A maskalonge—–­and a whopper, too!”

Snap was right, and it was no mean task to bring the fish to the shore, and even then it flopped around in a manner that scared them a little.  The maskalonge was dark gray in color with small black spots, and measured all of four feet and a half from head to tail.

“My, but he is a whopper!” cried Shep, as he ran the boat ashore and surveyed the haul.  “No wonder he yanked Giant overboard.”

“Giant, you can be proud of such a haul,” said Snap.  “I guess he’s the king-pin of all the pike in this lake.”

“Well, I am proud,” answered Giant, with a grin.  “Just the same, I don’t relish being pulled overboard for any fish in the lake.  He must weigh something, eh?”

“Fifteen to twenty pounds, I guess,” said Snap.  “It’s too bad we haven’t a scales along.”

“Weigh him in his own scales,” said Whopper, by way of some fun.

“I wish I could send this fish home to my mother,” said the small youth.  “Wouldn’t it make her eyes stick out, though!”

“It certainly would, and some other folks would wonder, too,” answered Shep.  “But I don’t see how you can do it.”

Besides the maskalonge, the boys had caught several pike of fair size, so they were assured of enough to eat for several days.

“The best thing we can do to-morrow is to find a suitable camping spot and build a shelter,” said Snap.  “We don’t want to be caught out in the open again.”

The canvas at the tree-top was secured, and that night they slept between some bushes with this over them to keep off the night air.  Each of the young hunters took his turn at watching, but nothing came to disturb them, although Whopper declared that he heard several foxes not far off.

“I thought they were going to pay us a visit, but when they were about two hundred feet away they took a turn and that was the last I heard of them.”

On the following morning the young hunters were in the act of embarking in their rowboat, for a tour around the shore of Firefly Lake, when Shep pointed out a small canoe coming swiftly toward them.  In the craft sat a man of middle age, with thick hair and a heavy beard.

“Who can it be?” questioned Whopper.

“Perhaps it is one of the Felps crowd—–­to warn us away,” spoke up Giant.  “If it is, I’m rather for giving him a piece of our mind.”

“It is Jed Sanborn!” cried Shep.  “He must be out to do a little hunting or fishing on his own account.”