“Oh—­as to that—­Well, there may be something in it.  But Pete Tilton was really insane.  I saw him myself.  The asylum is the place for him, poor man,” concluded Mr. Tingley.

Ruth felt in secret very much worried over Jerry’s disappearance.  When she once became interested in anybody, as Helen said, “she was interested all the way through.”

The others could laugh a little about how the crafty real estate agent had fooled Mr. Tingley and gotten Jerry out of the way, but not Ruth.  She could scarcely sleep that night for thinking of what might have happened to the ill-used youth.

But she tried to hide her anxiety from her companions the next morning when plans were made for a fishing trip.  All but Mercy joined in this outing.  They went on snowshoes to the far end of the island, keeping on the beach under the huge cliffs, to a little cove where they would be sheltered and where the fishing was supposed to be good.

Preston, the foreman, went with them.  He and the boys dragged a bobsled well laden with the paraphernalia considered necessary for fishing through the ice.

First the holes were cut—­thirteen of them.  Then, near each hole, and on the windward side, two stakes were set about four feet apart and a square of canvas lashed between them for a wind-break.  A folding campstool had been brought for each fisherman and “fishergirl,” and there were a lot of old sacks for the latter, especially, to put under their feet as they watched the “bobbers” in the little pool of water before which they sat.

After Preston saw them well started, he went back to the house.  The crowd intended to remain until evening, and planned to make their dinner on the shore of the cove, frying some of the fish they expected to catch, and making coffee in a battered camp pot that had been brought along.

The fish were there, as the foreman had assured them.  Each member of the party watched and baited two lines.  At first some of the girls had considerable trouble with the bait, and the boys had to show them how to put it on the hook; but it was fun, and soon all were interested in pulling out the flopping fish, vying with each other in the catch, calling back and forth about their luck, and having a splendid time.

It was so cold that the fish froze almost as soon as they were thrown upon the ice.  Had they been catching for shipment, the fish could have been boxed and sent some distance by express without being iced.

But the young folk did not mind the cold much, nor the fact that the sun did not shine and the clouds grew thicker as the day advanced.

“I’m going to beat you all!” declared The Fox, after a great run of luck, in which she could scarcely bait rapidly enough to satisfy the ravenous fish.  “Might as well award me the laurel wreath right now.”

“Don’t you be too sure,” drawled Heavy.  “You know, ’He laughs best who laughs last.’”