Not caring to go back the same way
they had come, they sped along the opposite shore of the lake, where
were located several coves and cliffs of rock.
"This is as pretty as the other shore," 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 passing 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," ejaculated 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.
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