“Pshaw,” said Roy, “if I found a good place like that I’d want you to try it.” “Me, too,” said Dick. Chub viewed them scornfully. “Of course you would,” he replied with deep sarcasm. “Well, I would,” insisted Roy. “I’d be generous. Now--” “I guess you’re like the Irishman,” said Chub. “His name was Pat.” “It always is in a story,” murmured Dick. “One day his friend Mike met him and said: ‘Pat, they tell me you’re a Socialist.’ ‘I am,’ says Pat. ‘Well, now, tell me, Pat, what is a Socialist?’ ‘A Socialist,’ says Pat, ‘is a feller that divides his property equally. ’Tis like this, do you see: if I had two million dollars I’d give you one million and I’d keep one million myself.’ ‘’Tis a grand idea,’ says Mike. ‘And if you had two farms would you give me one, Pat?’ ‘Sure would I,’ says Pat. ‘’Tis an elegant thing, this Socialism,’ says Mike. ‘But, tell me, Pat, if you had two pigs would you give me one?’ ‘Go ’long, now!’ says Pat. ‘You know I’ve _got_ two pigs!’” “It’s a funny story,” said Roy, mournfully, “but I miss the application, Chub.” “You do, eh? Well, it just shows how easy it is to be generous with something you haven’t got.” Whereupon Chub picked up his rod and stepped ashore. “You won’t get a bite!” called Dick. Haughty silence from Chub as he walked away. “You won’t bring home a thing!” This shot told. “If I don’t bring home something as big as I did yesterday,” announced Chub, grandly “I’ll--I’ll wash up the dishes!” “That’s a go,” cried Dick. “Bad luck to you!” They watched him disappear between the trees. Then Roy turned to Dick with a grin. “Let’s follow him,” he said. An instant later, carrying their rods, they were on Chub’s trail. They went quickly and quietly, and soon had their quarry in sight. Chub was ambling along very leisurely, whistling as he went. Presently they were out of the woods and on a narrow road that was scarcely more than a path. It wound along the bottom of the mountain for a half a mile or so, running very straight and rendering it necessary for the pursuers to keep in among the trees lest Chub should glance back. But it was apparent that he had no suspicion. The road ran over or through several small streams which came gurgling down the hill and at each of them Roy and Dick expected to see Chub leave the road. But he kept on and presently Dick gave signs of discouragement. “Thunder,” he said, “I don’t believe he’s ever going to stop. This isn’t much fun, Roy. Let’s quit. I’m all scratched up with these branches.” “Stop nothing!” answered Roy. “He can’t be going much further. Anyway, the road curves pretty soon and then we can take it easy.” Presently the road did curve, Chub was out of sight, and they left the underbrush with sighs of relief. “Have you any idea where this pool of his is?” asked Dick.