am, Jack catching his line and fly in
the alders almost every time he cast.

Jack was too poor ever to have had any rod except an alder stick cut
beside the stream, a short line and hook, and any worm or grasshopper he
might find. He was wonderfully proud of the rod he held. The children
meant to give it to him at the end of the summer. But Jack did not know
this good news yet.

Ben Gile led the way, and almost every time he cast his fly there was a
swirl, the end of the slender rod bent, there was a minute of
excitement, and then upon the bank lay a beautiful speckled trout. On,
on, on they went over the cool, green leaves and bright red berries of
the partridge vine, and past raspberries wherever the sun had struck in
through the heavy trees to ripen them. The stream was running more and
more swiftly as they travelled up grade; quick water was growing more
frequent and the pools deeper.

At last they came to a deep, round pool, and the guide said, "Now, Jim,
you've the first try."

Jimmie cast his fly, there was a strike, a plunge, and out, out, out ran
Jimmie's line. The boy's face turned quite pale. "What shall I do, sir?"

"You have a big one," answered Ben, calmly. "If you can play him long
enough we may get him; otherwise he'll get your fly and line. Steady
there, steady; let out a little more line, and now reel in a bit."

It seemed like hours to Jimmie as he let the line out and reeled it in
again. Really, it was only a few minutes before the guide said: "Seems
to be getting a little tired; bring him in closer. That's it. There!"

They had no landing-net with them, so at the last moment Ben Gile seized
the line, and out came a two-pound trout. Jimmie's eyes were popping
nearly out of his head, and Betty was jumping about and clapping her
hands.

[Illustration:
_A._ Front view of dragon-fly nymph.
_B._ Top view of damsel-fly nymph.
_C._ Adult dragon-fly.]

"Tired?" asked the old man.

"Some," said the boy.

"Well, this is the best place we shall find to eat our luncheon. We'll
camp here. Now for the fire! Boys, get the wood and a small strip of
birch bark! Then these two stones will hold the frying-pan. Now for the
fish; we'll keep that big one of yours and I'll mount it for you, if
you'd like me to. We'll eat the little fellows. After luncheon we must
catch more for your mother, Betty, and for Jack to take home with him."

Soon the frying-pan was hot, and the trout were sizzling and curling up