chase off the mosquitoes."

"And they work all right," grunted Chet. "The smoke chases the
mosquitoes, you can believe. But then, the smoke chases _us_, too.
Purt's brand of cigarettes is made out of long-filler Connecticut
cabbage."

"That's all right; don't make fun of the poor fellow," Lance said,
with exaggerated sympathy. "Even if anybody had cigarettes to lend
him, he couldn't smoke any with anothah fellah's monogram on 'em,
don'tcher know, old top?"

But it came out that there was something else on Purt Sweet's mind. He
had a very expensive rod, reel, and book of flies. And to tell the
truth, he had never strung a line on such a rod, and did not know any
more about using the flies than a baby in arms!

He hated to admit his ignorance, for the boys were not at all tender
with the Central High dude. However, Chet and Lance were not
ill-natured, and Purt plucked up courage finally to beg Lance to take
him privately up stream (when they reached the creek) and give him a
lesson in fly-casting.

Lance had already taken Laura under his wing--as was to be expected;
but Mother Wit made him give Purt the assistance he needed. The three
wandered up stream, far above the series of quiet pools where the
other members of the party were casting for trout, or fishing for
perch.

The trio passed a series of rapids, several rods long, and then struck
a very beautiful stretch of calm water, with tree-shaded banks, and
shallows where the cat-tails and rushes grew in thick clusters.

"I see a sign up yonder," Laura said to Lance. "Didn't you say a part
of this stream was a private fishing preserve?"

"So I've been told. We won't go beyond the sign," said Lance.

He got Laura and Purt properly stationed and then cast, himself. They
were having good sport and had landed several beauties, when Billy
Long came idly up the stream on the other side.

"Hello!" he grunted. "Everywhere I go, there are girls. Isn't there a
place where a fellow can get away from them and fish? They chatter so
much that they drive all the fish into the mud, with their fins over
their ears--that's right!"

"Horrid thing!" said Laura. "We can keep just as silent when we're
fishing as any of you boys."

"Try it, then," advised Short and Long, gruffly.

He kept on up stream. "Look out there, Billy," Lance advised. "It's
posted above there."

"Posted?"

"Yes. Don't you see that sign?"

"Huh!" said the smaller boy. "I never _did_ believe in sign