“If I don’t bring home something as big as I did yesterday,” announced Chub, grandly “I’ll—I’ll wash up the dishes!”
“That’s a go,” cried Dick. “Bad luck to you!”
They watched him disappear between the trees. Then Roy turned to Dick with a grin. “Let’s follow him,” he said.
An instant later, carrying their rods, they were on Chub’s trail. They went quickly and quietly, and soon had their quarry in sight. Chub was ambling along very leisurely, whistling as he went. Presently they were out of the woods and on a narrow road that was scarcely more than a path. It wound along the bottom of the mountain for a half a mile or so, running very straight and rendering it necessary for the pursuers to keep in among the trees lest Chub should glance back. But it was apparent that he had no suspicion. The road ran over or through several small streams which came gurgling down the hill and at each of them Roy and Dick expected to see Chub leave the road. But he kept on and presently Dick gave signs of discouragement.
“Thunder,” he said, “I don’t believe he’s ever going to stop. This isn’t much fun, Roy. Let’s quit. I’m all scratched up with these branches.”
“Stop nothing!” answered Roy. “He can’t be going much further. Anyway, the road curves pretty soon and then we can take it easy.”
Presently the road did curve, Chub was out of sight, and they left the underbrush with sighs of relief.
“Have you any idea where this pool of his is?” asked Dick.
“Not the slightest. He and I started out together but he left me about three o’clock and went down toward the river. We were fishing that stream that comes down near the fork of the roads, you know; where we were the first day. That’s about half a mile further, but I don’t see why Chub has to go that far unless he can’t find his old pool any other way. Here’s the turn. Careful, or he may see us.”
It was an abrupt curve and they went very slowly and softly until they could see the stretch of road ahead. It was quite deserted!