place to catch fish?"

He laughed aloud--a clear, clean, boyish laugh of understanding, and
throwing himself to the ground with the easy air of one entirely at home,
returned, "No, sir, a better place to fish." So it was settled, each
understanding the other.

An hour later when the shadow of the mountain came over the water, the
boy sprang to his feet with an exclamation, "It's time that I was going,
mother likes for me to be home for supper. I can just make it."

But the Doctor was loth to let him go. "Where do you live?" he asked.
"Is it far?"

"Oh, no, only about six miles, but the trail is rough until you strike
the top of Wolf Ridge."

"Humph! You can't walk six miles before dark."

"My horse is only a little way up the creek," he answered, "or at least
he should be." Putting his fingers to his lips he blew a shrill whistle,
which echoed and re-echoed from shore to shore along the river, and was
answered by a loud neigh from somewhere in the ravine through which Fall
Creek reaches the larger stream. Again the boy whistled, and a black
pony came trotting out of the brush, the bridle hanging from the saddle
horn. "Tramp and I can make it all right, can't we old fellow?" said the
boy, patting the glossy neck, as the little horse rubbed a soft muzzle
against his young master's shoulder.

While his companion was making ready for his ride the Doctor selected