volunteered.

"Thank you," replied Dick, "but just at present I'm not for jumping
over this brook."

"Well, then, what on earth does interest you?" Dan asked. "This
isn't the first time you've seen this stream. You passed it
down by the lake, though down there it runs more smoothly."

"I know," Dick nodded. "I remember the fallen tree we used for
a bridge, and I'm simply ashamed of myself that I didn't think
more about this stream at the time---but my head was then too
full of the lake mystery and the chap with the haunting face.
But now-----"

"Well?" demanded Tom impatiently.

"Reade, old fellow," Dick answered solemnly, turning back from
peering at one of the quiet pools in the creek, "you're a wonder
at black bass fishing, no doubt. My tastes ran to another form
of sport. Mr. Morton taught me trout fishing; he lent me his
tackle before we started, and I have it over at the camp now.
Fellows, I believe, from the looks of things, that this stream
is well stocked with trout. At all events, I mean to have a try
at it."

"To-morrow?" asked Dave.

"No, siree! This afternoon----just as soon as possible! A little
while ago we were talking about ferrying ice over to the camp.