"Three is not many. Come along, by all means," declared Dr. Swift. "Manuel says the lake has not yet been fished much and that the trout are biting well. Get Tony, your guide, to pack up your tackle and bring some lunch. I am afraid we have not enough for all hands."
Mr. Croyden sprang to his feet.
"I'll do that," he replied. "What time are you starting?"
"Just as soon as I have succeeded in getting Theo to take a little nourishment," returned the Doctor.
This task Dr. Swift evidently did not find difficult, for within a half hour the party were setting forth through the woods.
The luncheon, tackle, and sweaters had been put into a canoe, which Tony and Manuel raised to their shoulders as if it were a feather.
"There is a punt over at Owl that we can use, so we shall need only one canoe," explained Manuel as he strode along.
The carry was not a rough one, but to Theo, accustomed to the smoothness of city pavements, it seemed very rough indeed. He was continually stepping into holes or climbing over fallen tree-trunks, and although a good walker, the pace the guides set made him pant. Even Dr. Swift was forced to confess that he was out of breath and was obliged now and then to stop and rest. Mr. Croyden, on the contrary, swung along the narrow trail with the ease of an Indian.
"You will get into trim in a few days," he observed encouragingly to Theo. "I myself am always stiff and slow until I get limbered up."
When, however, Owl Lake finally came into sight both Theo and his father instantly forgot their fatigue.