tic asylums. But we must not spend more than a few hours
longer on this excursion, for I've a notion that we are somewhere about
Saturday just now, and you know it's against our rules to run the risk
of shooting or fishing into Sunday."

"Very true," replied Sam, as he continued his sketch. "I say, Grant, do
you happen to have your watch with you?"

"Not I," cried Grant from the bow of the boat. "Since day and night
took to being the same I let it run down. I have no regard for time
now."

"D'ye know what day it is?"

"No."

"Humph, it's lucky that we can depend upon the Captain for keeping us
right in regard to Sunday. Well, let's go ashore and try the mouth of
yonder stream. I'll warrant me there are sea-trout there, perhaps
salmon, and the ground hereabouts seems a likely place for grouse and
ptarmigan. Pull hard, Hans, thou son of Eric, and shove the boat into
yonder creek."

Hans Ericsson bent his strong back, and a bright smile crossed his
sunburnt face as the head of the boat flew round.

"Hallo, Hans! steady, my lad!" cried Grant, giving his oar a pull that
sent the head of the boat spinning round in the opposite direction.
Then the sturdy Norseman and the stalwart Scot gave a pull together with
all their might, and sent the boat like an arrow into the creek, where,
in a few seconds, her keel grated on the shore.

For several hours after that the three friends were busy with their
favourite pursuits. Grant soon bagged several brace of grouse. Fred
caught a basket of splendid sea-trout, some of which were over three
pounds' weight, and a small salmon of about ten pounds; while Sam Sorrel
sat down on a rock and painted an elaborate picture of the scenery. Of
course their different occupations separated them from each other, but
Hans kept close to Fred's elbow--for he had not only conceived a strong
friendship for the young Englishman, but he was immensely delighted with
fly-fishing, which he had never before witnessed. The astonishment of
Hans was great when he beheld heavy trout landed by means of a slender
rod and an almost invisible line. But when Fred hooked the salmon the
excitement of the Norseman knew no bounds. After nearly half an hour's
playing of the fish, Fred drew it close to the bank, and told Hans to
strike the gaff-hook into it, and lift it out of the water. Hans in his
excitement missed his aim, and the terrified fish darted away. But Fred
was prepared for this, and let ou