Watch fer trout. Look
everywheres, an' drop in a bug now and then. I'll do the same fer
the other stream. Then we'll come back here an' talk over what the
fish has to say about the Injuns."
Joe walked down stream a few paces, and, dropping on his knees,
crawled carefully to the edge of the bank. He slightly parted the
grass so he could peep through, and found himself directly over a
pool with a narrow shoal running out from the opposite bank. The
water was so clear he could see the pebbly bottom in all parts,
except a dark hole near a bend in the shore close by. He did not see
a living thing in the water, not a crawfish, turtle, nor even a
frog. He peered round closely, then flipped in one of the bugs he
had brought along. A shiny yellow fish flared up from the depths of
the deep hole and disappeared with the cricket; but it was a bass or
a pike, not a trout. Wetzel had said there were a few trout living
near the cool springs of these streams. The lad tried again to coax
one to the surface. This time the more fortunate cricket swam and
hopped across the stream to safety.
When Joe's eyes were thoroughly accustomed to the clear water, with
its deceiving lights and shades, he saw a fish lying snug under the
side of a stone. The lad thought he recognized the snub-nose, the
hooked, wolfish jaw, but he could not get sufficient of a view to
classify him.
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