He crawled to a more advantageous position farther
down stream, and then he peered again through the woods. Yes, sure
enough, he had espied a trout. He well knew those spotted silver
sides, that broad, square tail. Such a monster! In his admiration
for the fellow, and his wish for a hook and line to try conclusions
with him, Joe momentarily forgot his object. Remembering, he tossed
out a big, fat cricket, which alighted on the water just above the
fish. The trout never moved, nor even blinked. The lad tried again,
with no better success. The fish would not rise. Thereupon Joe
returned to the point where he had left Wetzel.
"I couldn't see nothin' over there," said the hunter, who was
waiting. "Did you see any?'
"One, and a big fellow."
"Did he see you?"
"No."
"Did he rise to a bug?"
"No, he didn't; but then maybe he wasn't hungry" answered Joe, who
could not understand what Wetzel was driving at.
"Tell me exactly what he did."
"That's just the trouble; he didn't do anything," replied Joe,
thoughtfully. "He just lay low, stifflike, under a stone. He never
batted an eye. But his side-fins quivered like an aspen leaf."
"Them side-fins tell us the story. Girty, an' his redskins hev took
this branch," said Wetzel, positively. "The other leads to the Huron
towns.
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