At first the grizzled old man looked at her as if he were deeply puzzled. Did she really mean that she preferred the small fish! A queer, hesitating smile slowly began to spread over his face as he reluctantly drew out the fish, one by one, and placed them on the leaves. Several times he paused, and by numerous frantic gestures and gutteral sounds asked again if she really wished him to replace the larger fish. At last, so completely was he assured, he quickly flung the remaining beauties into the basket, snatched the parcel of food which the cook had prepared for him and arose to hasten away. Again he was checked by a touch on the arm and with his hand half raised again to make the sign of thanks, his astonishment was even greater increased by a proffered half-dollar. “Trout for breakfast!” Bess called cheerfully to the “colored gentleman” whose white teeth gleamed through a whimsical smile. “Trout for breakfast!” she again announced to the men of the party who had been watching the fish deal with unobserved interest, and by this time were convulsed with laughter. “Come here girls—come ‘Mr. Peter Pan’ and see the shining beauties!” she added, as they came from the tent with hastily arranged toilets. “Well, I’m glad you are all so tickled to death over our prospective breakfast,” she continued, while the laughter increased, “but I must say the joke—if there be one—seems rather jejune.” Little “Peter Pan” squeezed five little sympathetic fingers into the tightly closed palm of the perplexed girl, led her with gentle determination behind a clump of scrub-pines, drew her fluffy head down to her lips and whispered softly: “I heard Mr. George whisper to Uncle Jim that they were ‘squaw-fish,’ but if I can I’ll try to help you eat them.” Bess gathered the child into a loving embrace and together they went to supper to face the jolly ridicule. “I’m the sorriest of all,” chimed in “Peter Pan,” “’cause there’s only one thing that’s better than trout.” “And what is that other?” questioned Bess. “Why, it’s doughnuts with the holes fried shut.” Some fairy must have brought some for breakfast next morning, for there they were, round, fat and golden, with only little puckers where the holes used to be. A tell-tale patch of flour on Bess’ cheek gave away the secret of the early riser. CHAPTER XXII A PSEUDO SQUAW The “girls” were to remain in camp, while Mr. George and “Uncle Jim” drove the horses to a ranch to have them re-shod. A trip to Sullivan Creek had been planned, and it was necessary that the team and wagon be in good condition to cover the long distance over a rough, hilly road. The dogs were in need of a rest to recuperate for the next chase. The good-byes were called and re-answered till the men were out of sight.