"We'll have a jolly dinner, after all," he said, as the flames went
crackling up, and the dry leaves made a pleasant smell.

"Got four, but don't see how we'll ever cook 'em; no frying-pan," grumbled
Billy, throwing down the four little trout, which he had half cleaned.

"Don't want any. Broil 'em on the coals, or toast 'em on a forked stick.
I'll show you how," said cheerful Tommy, whittling away, and feeding his
fire as much like a real hunter as a small boy could be.

While he worked, Billy ate berries and sighed for bread and butter. At
last, after much trouble, two of the trout were half cooked and eagerly
eaten by the hungry boys. But they were very different from the nice brown
ones Mrs. Mullin gave them; for in spite of Tommy's struggles they would
fall in the ashes, and there was no salt to eat with them. By the time the
last were toasted, the young hunters were so hungry they could have eaten
anything, and not a berry was left.

"I set the trap down there, for I saw a hole among the vines, and I
shouldn't wonder if we got a rabbit or something," said Tommy, when the
last bone was polished. "You go and catch some more fish, and I'll see if
I have caught any old chap as he went home to dinner."

Off ran Tommy; and the other boy went slowly back to the brook, wishing
with all his might he was at home eating sweet corn and berry pie.

The trout had evidently gone to their dinners, for not one bite did poor
Billy get; and he was just falling asleep when a loud shout gave him such
a fright that he tumbled into the brook up to his knees.