ove--that's August 4th; and we left on
August 5th, and got to Monida August 6th, and came here that day; and
day before yesterday was the 7th, and we came down the mountain
yesterday, the 8th; this must be about August 9th, I suppose."

"That's right," said Uncle Dick; "giving us a full week or even more if
we want it, to explore the Madison Fork, which is another head of the
big river. Then we'll wind up on the Gallatin head, at Billy's place,
and figure there what we want to do next. We might well stop at the head
of Henry's Lake, and in a day or so we'll pick up Billy's car there and
be on our way, with a camp outfit of our own again."

Their journey over the clean, hard road around the rim of the wide
Alaska Basin was one of delight. They sped down the farther slope of the
Red Rock Pass, along the bright waters of Duck Creek, until early in the
afternoon they raised the wide and pleasing view of Henry's Lake, one of
the most beautiful valleys of the Rockies. Around this the road led them
comfortably enough to the cluster of log cabins and tents which was now
to make their next stopping place. Here they sent back the Monida car,
whose driver said he could make the Picnic Creek camp by nightfall if he
drove hard. Soon they all were made comfortable in the cabins of this
"dude ranch," as the Western people call any place where tourists are
taken in for pay.

The proprietor of this place was an old-time settler who could remember
the days of buffalo and beaver in this country, and who told them
marvelous tales of the enormous number of trout in the lake.

"Go down to the landing, below the tamarack swamp," said he, "and get a
boat and just push out over the moss a little way. Off to the right
you'll see a stake sticking up in the water. Drop your anchor a little
way from it and cast that way; it marks a spring, or cold hole, and they
lie in there."

The three boys did as advised, and to their great surprise began to
catch trout after trout as they cast their flies toward the indicated
spot. They all were about the same size, just under two pounds, all
native or cutthroat trout. They soon tired of it, and returned nearly
all of their catch to the water as soon as taken. Sometimes a fish,
tired with the struggle, would lie at the bottom, on its side, as though
dead, but if touched with the end of the landing-net handle would
recover and swiftly dart away.

"From all I learn," said Rob, "this fishing is too easy to b