him in glittering spray. Ping! said the rifle, and the bear
fell. "Good luck!" said Luke. "I haven't forgotten how,
after all. I'll take him into the canoe, and dress him up at
the camp."

Yes, there was the little cabin at the meeting of the
rivers. The door was padlocked, but Luke knew how to pry off
one of the staples. Squirrels had made a litter on the floor,
but that was soon swept out, and a fire crackled in the stove.
There was tea and ham and bread in the pack in the canoe.
Supper never tasted better. "One more night in the old camp,"
said Luke as he rolled himself in the blanket and dropped
asleep in a moment.

The sun shone in at the door and woke him. "I must have
a trout for breakfast," he cried, "there's one waiting for me
at the mouth of Alder Brook, I suppose." So he caught up his
rod from behind the door, and got into the canoe and paddled
up the River of Rocks. There was the broad, dark pool, like a
little lake, with a rapid running in at the head, and close
beside the rapid, the mouth of the brook. He sent his fly out by
the edge of the alders. There was a huge swirl on the water, and
the great-grandfather of all the trout in the river was
hooked. Up and down the pool he played for half an hour,
until at last the fight was over, and for want of a net Luke
beached him on the gravel bank at the foot of the pool.

"Seven pounds if it's an ounce," said he. "This is my
lucky day. Now all I need is some good meat to provision the
camp."