For nearly half an hour Prescott saw nothing of his friends.
Then Dave and Greg came in sight. Dick held up a string now numbering
eleven trout, some of them unusually large.

For answer Greg held up a crotched stick with not a single trout
dangling therefrom.

"There's more knack to this game than I can catch," muttered Darry
disconsolately, "but I'd give a good deal to get the knack of it."

"No man save the first trout fisherman of all ever learned without
a teacher," Dick assured his chum. "Greg, you take a place farther
down the stream, and I'll stay with Dave and try to show him some
of the tricks. You may have my pole and line, Greg, for I shall
be busy watching Dave."

Many a pull at his line had Darrin, and many a fish was lost ere,
under Prescott's patient instruction, he managed to land a trout
weighing about a pound.

"Whew!" muttered Dave, mopping his brow. "At this moment I believe
I feel prouder than any general who ever captured a city."

"You'll soon have the hang of it, now, Dave," was his chum's encouraging
assurance. "Now, I'm going to hunt up Holmesy, and see if I can
show him some of the knack."

Greg proved a grateful though not very clever pupil. He was all
enthusiasm, but the art of landing a trout appeared to him to
be one of the most difficult feats in the world.