end of the pool did he grasp the significance of the tracks. He stopped in
amazement.

"Look here, Charley," he called, pointing to the piles of fish-bones.
"Those coons have been catching and eating trout." Then, after a moment's
thought, he added, "If this stream is like this in April, what will it be
in August? There will be hardly a drop of water or a trout left. Why, this
brook is ruined for years as a trout-stream--maybe forever. And it used to
be absolutely the finest trout-stream in this part of the mountains."

Depressed and silent, the two lads continued along the brook. The
mountains on either side of them and the entire bottom between lay black
and desolate. But far up the run they could now see green foliage again,
where the fire had been stopped.

"Let's go on to those pines before we eat our breakfast," said Charley.
"It would make me sick to eat here in these ruins."

"That's exactly the way I feel, too," replied Lew. "It is the most awful
thing I ever saw. Let's get out of it."

As rapidly as they could, they forced their way up-stream. The valley
became narrower as they advanced. It was shaped like a huge wish-bone; and
they were nearing the small end, where the mountains came together and
formed a high knob. As the valley narrowed, the grade became much steeper,
and their progress was correspondingly slower.

The pines they were heading for stood almost at the top of the knob at the
crotch of the wish-bone. They were, therefore, at a considerable
elevation. From the edge of these pines one would have to travel only a