hole had leaped for some insect prey.

"See him?" called Henry, but under his breath.

Hiram nodded, but squeezed his companion's hand for silence. He
almost held his own breath for the moment, as they moved back
from the pool with the soundless step of an Indian.

"That big feller is my meat," declared Henry.

"Go to it, boy!" urged Hiram, and set about preparing the camp.

He cut with his big jack-knife and set up a tripod of green rods
in a jiffy, skirmished for dry wood, lit his fire, filled the
kettle from the river at a little distance from the eddy, and
hung it over the blaze to boil.

Meanwhile Henry fished out a line and an envelope of hooks from
an inner pocket, cut a springy pole back on the hillside, rigged
his line and hook, and kicked a hole in the soft, rich soil until
he unearthed a fat angleworm.

With this impaled upon the hook he cautiously approached the pool
under the sycamore and cast gently. The struggling worm sank
slowly; the water wrinkled about the line; but there followed
no tug at the hook, although Henry stood patiently for several
moments. He cast again, and yet again, with like result.

"Ah, ba!" muttered Hiram, in his ear; "this fellow's appetite
needs tickling. He is being fed too well and turns up his nose