; it's a
first-rate morning to go trout-fishing."

Archie had been waiting impatiently for a cloudy day; he was very fond
of trout-fishing, and he readily agreed to his cousin's proposal to
"take a trip to Dungeon Brook," and they commenced pulling on their
"hunting and fishing rig," as they called it, which consisted of a
pair of stout pantaloons that would resist water and dirt to the last
extremity, heavy boots reaching above their knees, and a blue flannel
shirt.

While Archie was getting their fishing-tackle ready, Frank busied
himself in placing on the table in the kitchen such eatables as he
could lay his hands on, for he and his cousin were the only ones up.

Their breakfast was eaten in a hurry; and, after drawing on their
India-rubber coats--for Frank said it would rain before they
returned--they slung on their fish-baskets, and took their trout-poles
in their hands, and started out.

Dungeon Brook lay about five miles distant, through the woods. It was
a long tramp, over fallen logs and through thick bushes; but it was
famous for its large trout, and the boys knew they would be well
repaid for their trouble.

In about two hours they arrived at their destination; and, after
partaking of a lunch, which Frank had brought, they rigged their
"flies," and Archie went up the brook a little distance, to try a
place known among the boys as the "old trout-hole," while Frank
dropped his hook down close to a large log that lay across the stream,
near the place where he was standing. The bait sank slowly toward the
bottom, when, suddenly, there was a tremendous jerk, and the line
whizzed through the water with a force that bent the tough, elastic
pole like a "reed shaken with the wind." Frank was a skillful
fisherman, and, after a few moments' maneuvering, a trout weighing
between three and four pounds lay floundering on the bank.

Archie soon came up, having been a little more successful, as two
good-sized fish were struggling in his basket.

They walked slowly down the brook, stopping now and then to try some
favorite spot, and, about three o'clock in the afternoon, they reached
the place where the brook emptied into Glen's Creek, and were about
two miles from home. They had been remarkably successful; their
baskets were filled, and they had several "sockdologers" strung on a
branch, which they carried in their hands.

After dropping their hooks for a few moments among the perch, at the
mouth of the brook, th