There was one other feature of the camp which proved especially interesting to the boys. The guides had broadened this stream which divided the camp into a sort of pool near the edge of the lake, with a little log bridge at each end of the pool. Into this pool, they had put any unusually fine trout they had caught, and already there were nearly a hundred speckled beauties swimming around in the clear water. Each end of the pool had been fixed with crossed willow wands so that the fish could not get out. This pond had proved a never-ending source of pleasure to the boys, for it must be remembered, that they had practically never seen a trout before.
"When do you expect Jack back?" Mr. Waterman inquired of Mr. Anderson.
"He said he'd be back some time to-day," replied the latter.
"Who's Jack?" asked Pud.
"He's one of the guides," said Mr. Waterman. "He's a corker. He's been up in through to Lac Corbeau trimming up some of the portages."
"You'll find Jack the best fellow in the world," said Mr. Anderson. "He knows the woods like a book and he can cook very well. We won't know what real grub is until he gets back."
"Can he talk English?" asked Bill.
"Sure," said Mr. Waterman. "He's a Yankee. I brought him up here the first year so I would be sure to have one dependable guide."
"Well, let's go fishing," said Pud, as if that was all there was about it.
"All right," said Mr. Waterman, "but first of all, you'll have to be initiated into the ABC's of fishing, namely, getting your rods and lines ready."