"That, of course, papa," Fritz rejoined. "But since we can have an hour or two this morning, come along, Jack; come along, Frank."
"We are quite ready," cried Jack, "and I can feel a fine trout at the end of my line already. Houp-la! Houp-la!"
Jack pretended to gaff the imaginary fish caught on his hook while calling in glad and ringing tones:
"Off we go!"
Perhaps Frank would have preferred to remain at Rock Castle, where his mornings were generally devoted to study. However, his brother pressed him so eagerly that he made up his mind to follow him.
The three young men were going towards the right bank of Jackal River when M. Zermatt stopped them.
"My children," he said, "your eagerness to go fishing has made you forget——"
"Forget what?" Jack asked.
"What we have made a practice of doing every year, at the beginning of the dry season."
Fritz came back to his father.