"Of course," Bert went on, too generous to gloat over their discomfiture,
"that only proves that he was here then. He may be a hundred miles off
by this time. Still, it won't do a bit of harm to keep our eyes peeled
and make sure that our guns are in good working order. He's probably got
a perpetual grouch, and he might be peevish if he should turn up and find
us poaching on his hunting grounds."

They moved along, a little more soberly now, and their eyes narrowly
scanned the trees ahead as though at any moment through the forest aisles
they might discover a giant form lumbering down upon them. They did not
think it at all likely, as there had been no rumors for some time past
of a grizzly having been seen in the locality, nor had the mutilated body
of some luckless steer borne traces of his handiwork. Still it was
"better to be safe than sorry," and their vigilance did not relax until
they came out of the thicker forest onto a more scantily wooded plateau
and saw before them the shining waters of the lake that marked the goal
of their journey.

Under the cloudy sky the waters had the steel-gray luster of quicksilver.
It seemed to be about three miles in length, although this they could not
clearly determine, owing to a curve at the upper end, which concealed its
limits in that direction. It was not more than three-quarters of a mile
wide, and the expanse was broken by a small wooded island about half way
across. Nothing living was in sight, except a huge fish hawk that waited
expectantly on a dead branch overhanging the water. Even while they
looked, it darted downward, cleaving the air and water like an arrow, and
reappeared a moment later with a large fish struggling in its jaws.
Resuming its seat upon the branch it tossed the fish in the air, caught
it cleverly as it came down, and swallowed it at a gulp.