"Sh! Wait. Don't let 'em hear you," warned Frane, Junior. Then he
added: "Get down here 'side o' me. When I spot him I'll let you squint
through this too."

Russ understood now that his companion was trying to see one of the fish
that lived in the stream--perhaps the "big fellow" Frane had spoken of.
Russ grew quite excited and he took off his jacket and rolled up his
sleeves. He knelt down beside Frane, and finally lay right down on his
stomach and likewise peered over the side of the log.

The log-bridge had been made quite flat on its upper surface with a
broadaxe, and all the bark had long since worn off. It was all of thirty
feet long, but it was just as firm as the arch of a stone bridge.

"There!" whispered Frane. "I saw a flicker then. Yep! He's there! Right
below the edge of that stone!"

"I don't see anything but water. I can't even see the bottom," observed
Russ, in a low voice, too.

"Don't you see him below the stone?"

"I don't even see the stone," complained Russ.

"Hush! He'll hear you. I see his tail wiggle. He's a big cat."

"Now, don't tell me there's a cat in this brook!" said Russ Bunker,
shortly. "I know there isn't anything of the kind. Cats hate water."

He had already learned that Frane, Junior, was apt to exaggerate. Russ