grander bits of scenery than right here among the Pontico Hills. Anything unusual happen since I went away?”

“Oh! I’ve had a lot of visitors,” laughed the other boy, “slick little chaps in their fur coats one and all. They are watching us both right now, I reckon, behind the shelter of the leaves on the ground, and up in some of these big trees. There were both red squirrels, and fat gray ones that barked at me, and seemed to ask what business a chap walking on two feet had in their domain. Then chipmunks galore live around here, and the little striped fellows have already begun to get acquainted, for one ran in and picked up a bit of bread I threw, and then whisked out of sight like fun over there where he lives in the holes under the roots of that tree. Why, I’ve been so employed watching them, and talking to them, that the time has just skipped along. When I looked up at the sun just now and guessed you’d been gone nearly two hours, I had to rub my eyes and figure it all out again. You see I’m so used to telling time by clocks that it seems queer to use the sun for it.”

“No signs of Toby so far, I suppose, Steve?” asked Jack a little later, as he emerged from the tent after putting his camera safely away.

“Not a thing,” announced the other. “I hope you’re not worrying about him, Jack, and sorry already you let him go off alone. Mebbe I ought to have kept him company, sore heel or not.”

32“Don’t fret about it, Steve. Toby has common horse-sense, and could hardly get lost if he tried his hardest. You see, the formation of the valley is calculated to always set a fellow straight, even if he gets a little mixed in his bearings. It runs directly southeast to northwest around here. Besides Toby has the compass, and the sun is shining up there full tilt. He may not be in for another hour or so; but I wouldn’t be alarmed even if the sun set with him still away. The light of our campfire would serve as a guide to him, once darkness fell.”

“Yes, that’s a fact, Jack. We could build a roaring blaze that might be seen a mile and more away. I did hear one thing that surprised me.”

“What was that?” demanded the other, looking expectant, as though he could give a pretty good guess himself, which was as much as saying that he had heard the same sound.

“Why, there must be some sort of mining going on not many miles away from here,” argued Steve, “because that was surely a blast I heard half an hour ago. First I had an idea it meant a coming storm, but there wasn’t a sign of a cloud in sight. It seemed to be a deep, heavy reverberation, just like I’ve heard dynamite make at the red-sandstone quarry near Chester when the workmen at noon set off their blasts. Of course you noticed it, too, Jack?”

“Well, I should say so,” the other admitted, “and during the night both Toby and myself were 33 awakened by just the same sort of far-off dull roaring sound.”

“I must have been sound asleep then, because I never caught it,” acknowledged the other, frankly; “but if you two boys talked it over, what conclusion did you arrive at, may I ask?”

“We were undecided,” said Jack, warily. “We sort of inclined to the opinion that either a railroad was being cut through the hills over to the north, or else there might be some sort of mining or quarrying being carried on there. I told Toby that while it was an unknown quantity to us now, the chances were in our scouting around while camping here for two weeks or more, we stood to learn just what caused that queer booming sound.”

“There’s Toby whistling, as sure as anything,” announced Steve. “I figure from his merry tone that he’s met with a decent bunch of luck. Yes, there he comes, swinging through the woods, and actually following the trail he made in going out. Good boy, Toby, he’s all right.”

“And it’s fish for supper in the bargain,” asserted Jack, “for you can see he’s carrying quite a neat string of the finny beauties. There, he holds it up so you can get your mouth ready for a feast.”

As the fisherman came closer, Jack saw that he was looking a bit serious for a fellow who had been so successful in his first fishing trip to the river.

34“Something happened, I calculate, eh, Toby?” demanded Steve, also reading the signs.

“Well, yes, I’ve got a story to tell that may interest you both,” admitted Toby with an important air.

35CHAPTER V
TOBY’S ADVENTURE

“Now that’s what I get for staying home when I had a chance to go along with you, Toby, old scout,” grumbled Steve. “Just my luck to be left out of the running. Hang the sore heel, I say!”

“Come over to the log and sit down, Toby,” tempted Jack; “you must be a little tired after your long walk, and all the work of catching such a bunch of fighters. It seems after all that the gamiest bass frequent the upper reaches of Paradise River. And none of the fellows in Chester cared to go that far when the fishing near home was always pretty good.”

So Toby was escorted to the sitting log with one chum on either side. He would not have been a natural boy if he did not feel his importance just then, with two fellows eager to hear his story.

“Now pitch in and tell us what really did happen,” begged Steve; “for of course by now you’ve got us all excited, and guessing a dozen things in the bargain.”

“Well, I didn’t have a bit of trouble finding the river,” began Toby, just as though he felt he should conduct them gradually along until the climax came, as good story-tellers do, he understood. 36 “All I had to do was to follow my nose, and keep going ahead into the west.

“I reckon the Paradise River must lie about a mile and a half over yonder; but in places the going isn’t as easy as you’d like. Finally, I glimpsed running water, though to tell the truth I’d heard it some time before; because in places there are quite some rapids, and they make music right along, as the water gurgles down the incline, and swishes around rocks that stick out above the surface.

“Let me tell you, boys, the old river may look pretty fine in spots down our way, but shucks! it can’t hold a candle to what you’ll see up here. Soon’s I got my eyes fastened on that picture I thought of you, Jack, and how you’d just love to knock off such a handsome view for keeps.

“But fishing was what I’d come after, and so I put all other notions out of my head. It didn’t take such an old fisherman as Toby Hopkins long to settle on what looked like the most promising site for throwing out in an eddy just below some frowning big rocks, and where the shadows looked mighty inviting for a deep hole.

“Say, the fun began right away. Hardly had my baited hook disappeared in the dark water when I had a savage strike, and away my reel buzzed like fury. He was a game fighter, let me tell you, and I had all I could do to land him, what with his acrobatic jumps out of the water, and his boring deep down between times. But everything 37 held, and he chanced to be well hooked, so at last in he came.

“That sure looked like business, and I lost no time in baiting up again, for I knew how finicky bass are about biting, and that you have to make hay while the sun shines, because they quit work just as suddenly as they start in, without you understanding the cause either.

“Right away I had another, and then a third big chap followed which I lost. But what did one fish matter when there seemed to be no end of them just hanging around waiting a chance for