“It’s certainly bad,” declared Songbird Powell.  “I wonder what we had best do?”

“Has anybody got a pistol?”

Nobody had, nor was there any weapon handy outside of a jackknife and a fishing rod.

“If we only had a shot-gun,” sighed Sam.

“But we haven’t one and we must do the best we can without it,” answered Tom.  “Songbird, supposing you try to charm ’em with some of that soothing poetry of yours.  Or take a picture of ’em.”

“This is no joke,” growled Powell.  “I want my clothes.”

“Well, go ahead and take ’em—­I shan’t stop you.”

“I’m going to get another rock,” said Sam.

“Let us all get stones,” suggested Tom.  “Then we can throw together.”

This was thought to be a good idea, and soon the stones were secured and each cadet took careful aim.

Three of the snakes were hit, one quite seriously.  These retreated, but the other snakes remained as defiant as ever.

“There must be a nest under the rocks,” said Tom.  “Were that not so I am sure the snakes would leave at once.”

“I’ve got another idea!” cried Fred.  “Why didn’t we think of it before?”

“I haven’t thought of it yet, Fred,” grinned Tom.  “What is it?”

“Let us take our fishing rods and tie one fast to another.  Then we can turn the boat around and go fishing on the rocks for our clothes.”

“That’s the talk,” rejoined Powell.  “A good idea, Fred.”

Three of the rods were pieced together, making a fishing pole over thirty feet long.  The boat was then swung around, and while two kept the craft in place the others went fishing for the clothing.

The task was not so easy as it looked, and the snakes whipped around and hissed in a most alarming fashion.  More than once they had a coat or other garment on the pole only to drop it again.  But they persevered and soon had everything on board but Fred’s shirt and one of Tom’s shoes.

“Here comes the shirt,” cried Tom, at last, and landed the garment in the bow of the rowboat.

“And a snake with it!” screamed Sam.  “Look out, everybody!”

Sam was right, the snake was there and in a trice was whipping around under the seat.

“Stamp on him, Fred!” cried Tom, and Garrison, who had his shoes on, did so.  Then Tom caught the reptile by the tail and flung it into the lake.

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.”