"Oh, he's a back-number," answered Chub gaily. "This way, over the fence and across the pasture; it's only about a quarter of a mile from here." Soon they were treading their way along the bank of a fairly wide brook, pushing through the alders and young willows. After a while Chub stopped and jointed his pole. "You're going to fish, aren't you?" he asked. Roy shook his head. "No, especially since there's a chance that Ferris will tell Horace. I don't want to get hung up for the Hammond game. You go ahead, if you've got to, and I'll watch." "All right, if you won't. What's that?" He started and turned, peering intently through the bushes. "Thought I heard someone," he muttered. "Hope it wasn't Cobb or Buckman," said Roy fervently. "Oh, they don't spy," answered Chub, selecting a grey fly from a pocket of the book that had swelled his pocket. "Well, here goes for that nice black place over there where the little eddy is." The line flashed in the air and fell softly into the shadowed water. After that Chub seemed to forget Roy's presence entirely. Roy leaned back with hands clasped behind his head and watched; that is, he watched for a while; then his eyelids closed and with the babble of the stream and the drowsy hum of insects for a lullaby he went to sleep. When he awoke the shadows had lengthened perceptibly and Chub was not in sight. From the cramped condition of his neck and arm he judged that he had slept hard and long. He got to his feet and called softly. There was no answer. Evidently Chub had wandered further along stream. Roy waited a while, then, as it was fast approaching supper-time, he started home. As he reached the fence back of the athletic field Chub jumped into the road a few rods above and hurried toward him. "You're a great one," called Roy. "I waited almost half an hour for you to come back there." "I'm awfully sorry," said Chub. "You see I couldn't get even a nibble there and so I thought I'd go on up-stream. You were having a lovely sleep and I hated to wake you. I tried two or three pools and found nothing doing. Didn't get even a bite all afternoon. And when I got back you were gone. What did you do with Tom's pole?" "Tom's pole?" echoed Roy blankly. "Yes, did you leave it there? I couldn't see it." "Why, it wasn't there! At least, I don't think it was. Are you sure you didn't take it with you?" "Sure; I only had my own. That's funny. It's too late to go back now. I'll go up in the morning and see if I can find it. If I can't I'll have to buy him another one." "I'll do the buying," answered Roy. "You borrowed the old thing for me." "Nonsense; it's my funeral. You said you didn't want it, and I insisted on getting it for you. Well, maybe I'll find it. Come on, we'll have to hurry a bit." CHAPTER XXII THE POACHING