"That will hardly be fair to you two," replied Dick, with a shake
of his head.

"It wouldn't be fair to the whole crowd to take your pole away
from you any part of the time," retorted Greg. "Remember, Dick,
you are the expert trout fisherman of the party, and all the fellows
want some more trout. We'll never forget those of last night."

Greg and Hazelton now had breakfast ready. It was eaten rather
hastily, after which all hands fell to setting things to rights.

"Here, come out of the tent," called Hazelton, as Dick started
inside to use a broom there. "You fellows are the providers,
and I can do the little housework that's left to do."

So Dick, Dave and Greg brought out their long-legged rubber boots
and got into them with little delay. Then there came a sorting
of flies, and the rigging of lines and reels. Within a few minutes
the three were ready to start out.

As they went up the stream Dick cut and trimmed two crotched sticks
on which to string the fish they might catch.

"That looks almost boastful," chuckled Dave. "It looks as though
we thought it a cinch that we're going to get a lot of trout."

"It all depends on us," Prescott rejoined. "The brook is simply
full of trout, that we can catch if we display the requisite amount
of skill. The mystery to me is that this brook has escaped the