CHAPTER XXVI. 



All the way from the little upper room to Hast Bay, we 

 had heard the praises of Grass River sung by members of 

 our party who had been there in former years. Trout 

 were to be had there, large and plentiful, almost for the 

 asking. Lines could be laid in pleasant places, and Hies 

 cast in many pools Avhere lurked the eager and gameful 

 fish. The true angler's heart in every one of us yearned 

 for this promised land and its countless wealth of genuine 

 sport. But tiie way thither involved toil and trouble which 

 even the most ardent sportsman among us dreaded to en- 

 counter. The time, however, for decisive action of some 

 sort had come, for the thirteen men of vigorous appetite 

 had consumed the one little trout the second day's fishing 

 had brought to camp, and clamorously asked for more. 

 The fish of Grass River, it was said, were fair, but it was 

 conceded in the same breath that only the brave deserve 

 the fair. Then it was that the Sheriff and the Scribe aiose 

 and declared themselves to be the truly brave men of the 

 party, and stepping out from the hungry ranks volun- 

 teered to go forth as a forlorn hope. 



On the morning of the third day we set out on our ex- 

 pedition to these happy fishing grounds. Taking with us 

 two excellent guides, Ed. Young and George Sawyer. 

 and provisions for two days, we proceeded down the lake 



