"Can't we? Can't you swim as far as that? I can."
"Swim? Oh yes, of course we can. Shall you go now?"
"Why, no; not till we get in fish enough for dinner."
"That's it. We're Indians. Got to fish, hunt, or starve—or live on hard-tack and bacon."
Pot Lake was a great place for trout, and both of the boys knew how to handle a rod.
"No three-inchers; none of your speckled minnows," shouted Sid, as he landed a half-pound beauty.
"Here comes a bigger one. Oh, but isn't this fun?"
"Better fun than going into camp."
"Or tramping through the woods with a load. But don't you begin to feel hungry?"
"Begin? Well, you may say begin if you want to. Seems to me I began a little while after breakfast," replied Sid.