“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 over towards a deep bay on the west shore, to where a stream comes cascading down the rocks, and leaping into the lake, as if rejoicing at finding a resting-place in its quiet bosom.  The spot where this stream enters, is in the deep shadow of the old forest trees that reach their leafy arms far out from the ledges on which they grow, forming an arch above, and shutting out the sunlight.  Here the trout congregate, to enjoy the cool water that comes down from the hills above.  We approached it carefully, and Smith, by way of experiment, cast his fly across the current where the stream enters the lake.  It was seized by a beautiful fish weighing, perhaps, two pounds.  We did not need him, for the place where we proposed to pitch our tents for the night would afford us all the fish required, and after lifting him into the boat with the landing-net and releasing the hook from his jaw, we returned him to the lake again.