ticks which extended well out into the lake.

"Guess," said Uncle Dick.

"I know," said Rob at once--"beaver!"

"Right. It's one of the biggest beaver-houses I ever saw in my life.
You'll find beaver sign all around this lake, but I suppose they
caught the last one--maybe old Swift could tell who got him, or some
of his Indian friends. So all we'll use the old beaver-house for is as
a kind of pier to stand on while we fish--the trees come so close to
the lake that it is hard to get a back-cast here."

"Well," said Jesse, "over there to the end of the lake is a sort of
point that runs out in--where it is rocky, with little trees and
grass."

"A splendid place to fish, too," said his uncle. "Now if you and John
want to go around there, Rob and I will stay here and try it. But
you'll have to be careful in crossing that marsh at the head of the
lake. That's a beaver marsh--and just to show you how old our trail
is that I was mentioning, you will probably find the marsh was made
later than the trail was. But you can follow it along the edge of the
lake for quite a ways. It's all full of bogs and beaver-dams farther
up the valley, beyond the lake."

"Come on, Jess," said John, "and we'll go over there where we can get
out a good long line."

These boys were all of them fearless, from their outdoor training in
their Alaskan home, so without hesitation the two younger members of
the party started out alone and presently, after some running and
splashing across the wet marsh, they reached the rocky point which
they had mentioned.

"My, but this is a pretty lake!" said Jesse, standing for a time
admiring the beautiful sheet of water that lay before them.

"It certainly is all alone," said John. "I saw a trail back in there
which I'll bet was made by caribou. And there's beaver in here yet,
I'm sure."

"Yes, and trout," exclaimed Jesse. "Look at that fellow rise! We'll
get some sure. What fly are you going to use, John?"

"Let's try the Coachman--I've noticed that in the mountains trout
nearly always run at something white, and the white wings look as good
as anything to me."

"All right," said Jesse, and soon they were both casting as far as
they could from the shore.

"Out there is a sort of reef or rocks," said John; "I'll bet there's
fish there. Now if I could--Aha!" he cried. "Got him! No!" he
exclaimed, a minute later. "There's two!"

As a matter of fact, John was a good caster for one of his age, and he