more readily; but Waldo was not to be outdone so easily, and,
reckless of the consequences, he plunged into the eddying pool,
with fully half of his daylight rig still in place.

The water proved to be considerably deeper than either brother
had anticipated, and Waldo vanished from sight for a few seconds,
then reappearing with lusty puff and splutter, shaking the pearly
drops from his close-clipped curls, while ranting:

"Another vile fabrication nailed to the standard of truth, and
clinched by the hammer of--ouch!"

A wild flounder, then the youngster fairly doubled himself up,
acting so strangely that Bruno gave a little cry of alarm; but
ere the elder brother could take further action, Waldo swung his
right arm upward and outward, sending a goodly sized trout
flashing through the air to the shore, crying in boyish
enthusiasm:

"Glory in great chunks! I want to camp right here for a year to
come! Will ye look at that now?"

Bruno had to dodge that writhing missile, and, before he could
fairly recover himself, Waldo had floundered ashore, leaving a
yeasty turmoil in his wake, but then throwing up a dripping hand,
and speaking in an exaggerated whisper:

"Whist, boy! On your life, not so much as the ghost of a
whimper! The hole's ramjammed chuck full of trout, and we'll
have a meal fit for the gods if--where's my fishing tackle?"