"Two or three loud blasts on this bugle would carry a long way, and you fellows would know what I wanted," finished Hazelton.
"All right, then, I'll go," said Greg, his face beaming.
"We've trout flies in plenty, you know," Dick went on, "but we've only two poles that are suited to trouting, so we'll have to take turns."
"You may keep one pole all the time. Dick," suggested Darry.
"Greg and I can take turns with the other pole."
"That will hardly be fair to you two," replied Dick, with a shake of his head.
"It wouldn't be fair to the whole crowd to take your pole away from you any part of the time," retorted Greg. "Remember, Dick, you are the expert trout fisherman of the party, and all the fellows want some more trout. We'll never forget those of last night."
Greg and Hazelton now had breakfast ready. It was eaten rather hastily, after which all hands fell to setting things to rights.
"Here, come out of the tent," called Hazelton, as Dick started inside to use a broom there. "You fellows are the providers, and I can do the little housework that's left to do."
So Dick, Dave and Greg brought out their long-legged rubber boots and got into them with little delay. Then there came a sorting of flies, and the rigging of lines and reels. Within a few minutes the three were ready to start out.
As they went up the stream Dick cut and trimmed two crotched sticks on which to string the fish they might catch.