lves and paid Lil very little attention.

The fish were biting freely, for the morning was cloudy and these
waters about Acorn Island were far from being "fished out." Bobby
hauled in a couple of perch and had almost forgotten about Lil, when
the latter said, mournfully:

"Say, Clara."

"Well! what is it?" demanded the other.

"What do you call that little thing that bobbed up and down on the
water?"

"The float," replied the busy Bobby.

"Well, Clara!" whined Lil, mournfully.

"Well! what is it?" snapped the busy fisherman.

"I'll have to buy you a new one."

"Buy me _what_?" demanded the surprised Bobby.

"A new float."

"What for?" was the amazed demand.

"Because that one you lent me _has sunk_," mourned Lily.

"For goodness' sake!" shrieked Bobby. "You've got a bite!"

She dropped her own pole, ran to the amazed Lily, and dragged in a big
bullpout--sometimes called "catfish"--that was sulking in the mud at
the bottom, with Lil's hook firmly fastened in its jaws.

Lil shrieked. She would not touch the wriggling, black fish. She was
afraid of being "horned," she said!

Bobby put her foot on the fish and managed to extract the hook. Then
she baited the hook again and bade Lil try her luck once more.

But the amateur fisherman was doomed to ill-luck on this occasion. She
had scarcely dropped the bait into the water, when a fierce little
head appeared right at the surface. It swallowed the bait--hook and
all--at a gulp, and swam right toward the shore where Lil stood.

She began to squeal again: "A snake! a snake! Oh, Bobby, I'm deathly
afraid of snakes."

"So am I," rejoined Bobby. "But you won't catch a snake in the water
with a hook and line."

"_I've caught one!_" gasped the frightened Lil.

"Gee!" growled Bobby. "You're more trouble than a box of bald-headed
monkeys. What is the matter--Oo! it's a snapper!"

"A what?" cried Lil, dropping the fishpole.

"A snapping turtle," explained Bobby. "Now you _have_ caught it! I'll
lose hook and all, like enough."

She jerked the turtle ashore. Lil had seen only its reptilian head.
The beast proved to be more than a foot across.

"Makes bully soup," said the practical Bobby. "But he won't willingly
let go of that bait and the hook in a month of Sundays."

She ran up to the camp and came flying back in a minute with the
camp-hatchet. Lil grew bold enough to hold the line taut. The turtle
pulled back, and Bobby caught it just right and cut its