with that ball between
the eyes?"

"No," replied Smith, "I really don't believe any such thing."

"It is true, notwithstanding your lack of faith," said Spalding.

"Do you say that as counsel, or as a gentleman?" inquired Smith.

"Look you, Mr. Smith," said Spalding, "you are drawing a distinction
not warranted by the authority of the books--as if a lawyer could not
tell the truth like a gentleman. I say it as both."

"Very well," remarked Smith, "then I must believe it, of course. But
understand, Hank Martin, it will be my turn to-morrow night." And so
the matter was settled that the next night hunting was to be done
by Smith.

"H----," said the Doctor, as I was stealing quietly out of the tent,
in the twilight of the next morning, so as not to awaken my
companions, "where now?"

"I'm going to take some trout for breakfast, with our venison," I
replied.

"And where do you propose to take them?" he inquired. "Come with me,
and I'll show you. I looked the place out last evening, and if you've
done sleeping, we'll have some sport."

"Agreed," said he, and we paddled around the point into a little bay,
at the head of which a small, but cold stream entered the lake. The
Doctor sat in the bow, and, having adjusted his rod, I steered the
boat carefully, close along the shore, to within reach of the mouth of
the brook, and directed him to cast across it. The moment his fly
touched the water, half a dozen fish rose to it together. It was
eagerly seized by one weighing less than a quarter of a pound, which
was lifted bodily into the boat. He caught as fast as he could cast
his fly. They were the genuine brook trout, none of them exceeding a
quarter Of a pound in weight. In half an hour, we had secured as many
as we needed for breakfast, and paddled back to take a morning nap
while the meal was being prepared.

The sweetest fish that swims is the brook trout, weighing from a
quarter of a pound down. Rolled in flour, or meal, and fried brown,
they have no equal. The lake and river trout, weighing from two to ten
pounds, beautiful as they are, have not that delicacy of flavor which
belongs to the genuine brook trout. Boiled, when freshly caught, they
are by no means to be spoken lightly of. They have few equals, cooked
in that way, but as a pan fish, they are not to be compared with the
genuine brook trout.

CHAPTER X.

GRINDSTONE BROOK--FOREST SOUNDS--A FUNNY TREE, COVERED WITH SNOW
FLAKES.

We crossed o