nder a stone.

Doubtless no hook had ever been sunk in those waters before, and the
fish leaped to the bait. In fifteen minutes he had half a dozen fine
fellows, which he deftly cleaned with his hunting knife. Then he
returned, soft-footed, to the island. The four, as he wished, still
slept. After all, he did have imagination and, a feeling for surprise,
and the dramatic. Had his comrades awakened then, before his
preparations were complete, it would have spoiled his pleasure.

It was a short task for one such as he to use flint and steel, and
kindle a fire on the low side of the island, facing toward the east, but
yet within the circle of the trees. Dead wood was lying everywhere and
it burned rapidly. Then, quickly broiling the fish on sharpened ends of
twigs and laying them on green leaves, he went back and awakened the
four, who opened their eyes and sat up at the same time.

"What's the smell that's ticklin' my nose?" exclaimed Long Jim.

"Fish," replied Silent Tom gruffly. "Breakfast's ready! Come on!"

The four leaped to their feet, and followed the pleasant odor which grew
stronger and more savory as they advanced.

"Ain't cooked like you kin do it," said Silent Tom to Long Jim, "but I
done my best."

"Kings could do no more," said the shiftless one, "an' this is the
finest surprise I've had in a 'coon's age. I wuz gettin' mighty tired o'
cold vittles. A lazy man like me needs somethin' hot now an' then to
stir him up, don't he Jim?"

"Guess he does, an' so do I," said Long Jim, reaching hungrily for a
fish.

All fell to. The fish were of the finest flavor, and they had been
cooked well. Silent Tom said nothing, but he glowed with satisfaction.

"How'd you do it, Tom?" asked Shif'less Sol.

"Line, hook, bait, water, fish," replied Ross, waving his hand in the
direction of the creek.

"Ain't he the pow'ful talker?" laughed the shiftless one. "When Tom dies
an' goes up to heaven to take his place in them gran' an' eternal
huntin' groun's that we've already talked about, the Angel at the gate
will ask him his name. 'Tom Ross,' he'll say. 'Business on earth?'
'Hunter an' scout,' 'Ever betrayed a friend?' 'Never,' 'Then pass right
in,' That's all old Tom will say, not a word wasted in explanations an'
pologies."

"It'll be shorter than that," said Long Jim.

"How's that?"

"The Angel will ask him jest one question. He'll say, 'Who's your best
friend on earth?' an' Tom will answer 'Long Jim Hart, wh