“We might as well make camp here at this lower end, eh, Dick?” asked Roger, who had an eye on the fishing possibilities, and was anxious to get busy.
Dick had been looking around, as usual, being desirous of getting the lay of the land fixed in his mind in case there should come any sudden necessity for a change of base during the night, when he would know what to do.
“Just as you say, Roger,” he remarked. “If we are going to camp here, one place is about the same as another to me, so long as we keep our fire well hidden. And I can see where that can be easily done among these rocks back here. The horses we can tie to the trees with their ropes, and there is enough grass to do for one night. So get busy as soon as you wish. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Thank you, Dick; you feel for a fellow, don’t you? But then you never were just as wild for fishing as I am. Oh! don’t it seem good to be back once more close to our old friend, the river? And all night long I’m sure the splash of the water on the rocks will keep me sound asleep. It’s the next thing to getting home again.”
And in a short time Roger was attending to the several stout fish lines that he had baited, and thrown far out upon the passing current.
CHAPTER XXII
CAUGHT IN A RIVER TRAP
“Hurrah! I’ve got one already, Dick! See him pull, will you? Oh! this is worth waiting for, I tell you. And now, I wonder what kind it is, one of those slippery catfish, or the strongly built buffalo fish. Whoo! he nearly jerked the line out of my hands, then. But he’s just got to come along. We want fish for supper, don’t we, Dick?”
Calling out in this joyous strain Roger pulled his line in, hand over hand, until he finally landed his fish.