s second duck and it took a good hour
longer to get the other one. For some reason the birds did not want to
leave the lake and they were all three finally in Mr. Anderson's canoe.

"That will make another fine pot-pie," said Bill.

"We haven't any pot to make it in," said Pud.

"We'll have it back at camp," said Mr. Anderson. "These ducks, with some
dumplings and flour gravy, will be some dish."

They made for the far end of the lake and then got out. By this time it
was nearly twelve o'clock, and they debated whether to climb the
mountain then or wait until they had had something to eat.

"I tell you what to do," said Anderson. "You fellows go and climb this
mountain. I'll stay here, catch a few fish, then build a fire and have
everything ready for you when you return."

This was considered a good plan, so the three boys and Mr. Waterman set
out. There was no trail this time, but Mr. Waterman strode ahead with
confidence.

"Have you been over here before?" asked Bob.

"Oh, yes," replied Mr. Waterman. "I want to come here again several
times before the summer is over, for when we get to the top of this
mountain you will see something that very few city dwellers have ever
seen, namely, a real primeval forest."

"I thought that this was all primeval, way up here," said Bob.

"No," was the reply. "The big lumber companies see to it that there is
but little first growth any place where they can get the lumber to tide
water."

"Well, how is it that we'll see first growth up here, then?" asked Bill.

"You'll see when we get there," replied Mr. Waterman.

He walked on and they followed. Pud was saying nothing, but he was
having his troubles keeping up. He looked ahead at Mr. Waterman, who was
apparently sauntering along, and he wondered how he did it. Fortunately
for him, Mr. Waterman was very observant, for he noted Pud's distress
and slackened his pace or stopped to point out some great pine tree or
other object worth noting.

"Do you smell him?" suddenly said Mr. Waterman, as he stopped and looked
around carefully.

"Smell whom?" asked Pud, stopping in his tracks.

"The bear," said Mr. Waterman. "Can't you smell something in the air? I
can. A bear has been here not very long ago. Ah, there are his tracks."
He pointed to an old pine stump, which had been clawed recently. The
boys looked at the stump, but they saw no tracks.

"Come here," said Mr. Waterman, as he strode over the stump. "Bears like
grubs,