“Not exactly,” confessed Dick.

“No, Sherlock,” murmured Tom, “I don’t follow you.”

“Why,” said Bert impatiently, “don’t you boobs realize that up in the mountains here the snow is often four or five feet deep in the early spring?  How could the grizzly reach that high? Because he stood on a snowbank.”

“By Jove,” exclaimed Tom, all his self-assurance vanishing, “I believe you’re right.”

“You’ve hit the bull’s-eye,” cried Dick.  “Bert, old man, you’re a wonder.”

“Of course,” Bert went on, too generous to gloat over their discomfiture, “that only proves that he was here then.  He may be a hundred miles off by this time.  Still, it won’t do a bit of harm to keep our eyes peeled and make sure that our guns are in good working order.  He’s probably got a perpetual grouch, and he might be peevish if he should turn up and find us poaching on his hunting grounds.”

They moved along, a little more soberly now, and their eyes narrowly scanned the trees ahead as though at any moment through the forest aisles they might discover a giant form lumbering down upon them.  They did not think it at all likely, as there had been no rumors for some time past of a grizzly having been seen in the locality, nor had the mutilated body of some luckless steer borne traces of his handiwork.  Still it was “better to be safe than sorry,” and their vigilance did not relax until they came out of the thicker forest onto a more scantily wooded plateau and saw before them the shining waters of the lake that marked the goal of their journey.

Under the cloudy sky the waters had the steel-gray luster of quicksilver.  It seemed to be about three miles in length, although this they could not clearly determine, owing to a curve at the upper end, which concealed its limits in that direction.  It was not more than three-quarters of a mile wide, and the expanse was broken by a small wooded island about half way across.  Nothing living was in sight, except a huge fish hawk that waited expectantly on a dead branch overhanging the water.  Even while they looked, it darted downward, cleaving the air and water like an arrow, and reappeared a moment later with a large fish struggling in its jaws.  Resuming its seat upon the branch it tossed the fish in the air, caught it cleverly as it came down, and swallowed it at a gulp.

“Talk about juggling,” laughed Tom.  “That fellow would make a hit upon the vaudeville stage.”

“I’d like first rate to have him at the end of a cord,” said Dick.

“Like those natives we saw in China, eh?” suggested Bert.  “Do you remember how they used to fasten a ring about the throat so that they couldn’t swallow them?  It always seemed to me a low-down game to make them fork over as soon as they caught the fish.”

“Well, at any rate, that fellow has shown us that there are fish to be had for the taking,” said Tom.  “I’ll hunt up that canoe while you get the rods and reels ready.  What are you going to try for first, pickerel or bass?”