when they go on the war-path. Is that so, Reddy?" Frank asked quickly.

"Say, get that notion out of your head right away. They ain't no Crees
lookin' for trouble these days. My idea is just this: This is a family
travelin' acrost country, for some reason or other. P'raps they got
kicked out of their pesky old village. I've knowed such things to
happen. Then they run short of meat, and didn't have guns or powder.
Under such conditions any redman would steal."

"Well, who could blame them, with women and children to feed? I guess
you hit the nail on the head that time, Reddy. Glad to think that way,
too. We can spare the elk, and it will spur Bluff on to other hunting
deeds. He's had a taste now, and the fever will work on him."

Meanwhile, Jerry had started his fishing below the cataract. There were
places just at the end of the foam-splashed outlet of the big pool where
they had seen noble trout jumping, and it was here he dropped his flies.

After trying them a short time, and ascertaining that the trout paid
little attention to the feathery lure, practical Jerry actually
descended to the plebian angleworm, though he blushed when Frank came
over to watch him.

"Got to have some for supper, you know," he remarked. "Now, if I was
only doing this thing for the sport, nothing could tempt me to use live
bait. I'm at it in the strict commercial sense this time."

"I understand; and Jerry, let me tell you, the sportsman who, when
trout-hungry, refuses to go back to first principles, and use grubs and
worms after the fish refuse the fly, is to be pitied, that's all,"