"Where—where, for goodness' sake?" asked Dick, gazing wildly around.
"Right on that fallen tree," answered Dave.
"The old rascal is fishing. See—he scooped up something then."
"Sure he did," agreed Havens. "Grizzlies are great fishers, and the old dub there is so anxious to get a square meal that he hasn't even noticed us."
"Let's creep up on him," proposed Jim. "But you'll need all your nerve. Who wants to go?"
"Huh! Do you think we came out here to hunt sparrows?" whispered Dick, scornfully, and the others smiled.
Very cautiously, and keeping out of sight as much as possible, the quartet pushed ahead, and presently arrived at a point where the bear could be plainly seen.
He was stretched out on a trunk which had fallen across the stream, forming a natural bridge. His broad, massive head lay far over, and his gaze was fixed intently upon the water below. His powerful right paw, ready for instant action, hung low, but the heavy, brownish yellow form seemed as motionless as the trunk itself.
The grizzly was not resting, however, or merely enjoying the pleasant sunshine. He was working for his living, and doing it in a thorough and efficient manner.
Quick as a flash, his paw struck the water, and when it came out, a glistening, wriggling fish was tossed on the bank.