may have no use for it.
Chances are that you won't. But it's a mighty wise thing to have a good
rifle along wherever you go in this country. And if you need it at all,
you'll need it mighty bad and mighty quick."

So that when the boys left the house a half hour later, they took with
them not only all that was necessary to lure the finny prey from their
lurking places, but each as well carried on his shoulder a Winchester
repeating rifle and around his waist a well-stored cartridge belt.

Mr. Melton gave them explicit directions as to the route they were to
follow to find the lake, which lay in the hollow of a broad plateau about
five miles back in the mountains.

"You'll find a canoe hidden in the bushes near a big clump of trees on
the east shore," he said. "That is, if nobody has swiped it. But I
covered it up pretty well the last time I was there, and I guess it's
safe enough. If not, you'll have to take your chance in fishing from the
shore. There's an island a little way out in the lake, and you'll find
the pike thick around there if you can get out to it. And don't wait too
long before starting for home. That mountain trail is hard enough to
follow in the daytime, but you'd find your work cut out for you if you
tried it in the dark."

They promised not to forget the time in their enthusiasm for the sport,
and, stowing away in their basket the toothsome and abundant lunch put up
by Mrs. Melton, they started off gaily on their trip.

For a little distance from the house the road was fairly level. Then it
began to ascend and soon the trees that clothed the slopes shut them in,
and they lost sight of the ranch and of everything that spoke of
civilization.

"'This is the forest primeval,'" quoted Dick.

"'The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,'" added Tom.

"Primeval's the word," said Bert as he looked in awe at the giant
trees, towering in some instances to a height of two hundred feet.
"I suppose this looked just as it does now ten thousand years ago.
The only thing that suggests man is this trail we're following, and that
gets fainter and fainter as we keep climbing. This is sure enough 'God's
out-of-doors.'"

The balsam of the pines was in their nostrils and the path was carpeted
by the fragrant needles. Squirrels chattered in the trees and chipmunks
slipped like shadows between the trunks. As they were passing a monster
oak, Bert's observant eye noted something that brought him to a sudden
halt.

"Loo