hich they had stirred up in their struggles. Slowly and with caution
Bryan rose on one knee, while he crushed the fish against the bottom
with both hands; then making a last exertion, he hurled it up the bank,
where it fell beyond all hope of return to its native element.

The fish thus captured was a beautiful trout of about twenty pounds
weight. The lake trout of North America are, some of them, of enormous
size, being not unfrequently taken of sixty pounds weight, so that as a
specimen of those inhabiting these lakes this was by no means a large
one. Nevertheless it was a splendid fish, and certainly the largest
that had ever been captured by the worthy son of Vulcan.

The thick coat of liquid mud with which his face was covered could not
entirely conceal the smile of intense satisfaction with which he
regarded his prize, as he sat down on the bank before it.

"Kape quiet now, honey!" he exclaimed, as the trout made a last
fluttering attempt to escape; "kape quiet. Have patience, darlint.
It's o' no manner o' use to hurry natur'. Just lie still, an' it'll be
soon over."

With this consolatory remark, Bryan patted the fish on the head, and
proceeded to wring the water from his upper garments, after which he
repaired his broken tackle, and resumed his sport with an eagerness and
zest that cold and water and mud could not diminish in the smallest
degree.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

SUCCESSES AND ENCOURAGEMENT--BRYAN LOST AND FOUND.

It was evening before the tide began to fall and uncover the stake-nets,
which were eagerly and earnestly watched by those who had remained in
the camp. Mrs Stanley and Edith were seated on an empty box by the
margin of the sandy bay; Mr Stanley sat on a nail-keg beside them; La
Roche and the Indian were still working at the small canoe a few yards
from the tent; and Gaspard, with folded arms, and an unusual smile of
good humour playing on his countenance, stood close behind Stanley.

None of the hunting and exploring parties had returned, although the sun
had long since disappeared behind the mountains, and the mellow light of
evening was deepening over the bay.

"There's a tail, sir," said Gaspard, as he hurried towards the net.

"So it is!" cried Stanley, leaping up. "Come along, Eda, and take the
first fish."

Edith needed no second invitation, but bounded towards the edge of the
water, which was now gradually leaving the nets. Gaspard had already
disengaged a white fis