How to catch them was the next question. That was soon solved.
What boy does not have a pin or two sticking somewhere in his clothes—generally in his coat lapel. Dick found one, and after some trouble, succeeded in turning the point back about a sixteenth of an inch. This corresponded to the barb of a fish hook. Bending the rest of the pin into a hook was simple.
Now for a line. His cord that he used in the fire making was too heavy, and not long enough. However, Dick soon remedied the lack. He fished out the tail of his cotton khaki shirt, and after a few minutes’ work with the point of his knife, succeeded in drawing out a few of the strong threads. Knotting these together, he had a line.
Bait was now the only thing needed, and a few seconds’ search under the rocks along the shore of the brook uncovered several slugs such as cling to the wet bottom of rocks. Baiting his hook, he threw it in, and in a few minutes had a fine trout. Of course this kind of fishing was crude. Instead of delicately playing the trout, he simply snapped the line back, and landed the fish on the shore in back of him. He cleaned the fish with his knife, stuck it on the end of a stick and roasted it. There was one dinner, he thought.
A drink from the stream completed the meal. Not a heavy one, but still it would have kept starvation away had he been really lost. He spent the afternoon in exploring, and in the course of his wandering, always taking care to notice his trail so that he could get back to the stream and his campfire, he came upon a moist bit of ground.
Dick spied something that meant an addition to his supper.
He bent closer to examine the find. It consisted of mushrooms. He was familiar with the various kinds of poisonous and edible fungi, and an examination of the pink gills and shape of the mushroom convinced him these were all right to eat. Beyond the swampy place was a clump of birches, and here he supplied himself with a quantity of bark.
This would come in handy at a later time to make receptacles of. Dick gathered a quantity of the mushrooms, and returned to his campfire. Now he determined to try an experiment of which he was somewhat skeptical. He had read of the Indians doing it, and so set to work to try it.
He piled on wood until he had a good heap of coals, then made a cone of birch bark, fastening it by sticking a twig through at intervals. Filling this with water, he imbedded the cone in the coals, and threw in some of his mushrooms.
The theory of the bark kettle is that the water will keep the bark wet enough at all times so that the coals will not quite burn through. It cannot be lifted from the coals; the water or stuff that is cooking must be dipped out. Eventually the bark will be consumed, but not before the water or food has been heated sufficiently to use.