"All that its banks hold these days," Dick had explained to Roger when the other was expressing these ideas, "comes from the melting snows away up in those mountains whose tops we sometimes think we can see far, far away to the west. That is why it is so clear and cold, and the fish we catch now are not like the ones we have often brought in to our mothers at home." "The beautiful one, with the specks that were all the colors of the rainbow, must have been some kind of trout," Roger continued, his face lighting up eagerly, for he was a born angler, "and I only hope we are able to catch many more of the same kind. I never tasted such a fine fish, and the meat was of the true trout color, too." "I think we can depend on taking many a fine mess of them from now on," Dick continued, "though we must try to find out from the Indians just where they lurk in the river. Perhaps one of these smaller creeks, that empty into the Missouri, may turn out to be a good place." "To-morrow will be our chance then," Roger announced, "because I heard Captain Clark tell some of the men we would likely hold over for a day, so as to mend one of the boats that has been leaking badly and needs attention." "Let us consider it settled that way, then, Roger; and we shall see what sort of luck the best of bait will fetch us. In some of the old stumps and dead wood we can find big, fat grubs, which I am sure the fish will take to savagely." "I mean to start looking for bait this very evening when we make camp," declared Roger, evincing the greatest interest, for the memory of the feast they had enjoyed when that splendid speckled fish was broiled over the red coals had haunted him ever since. That afternoon the air was unusually clear, and every one was able to see, off in the distance, the lofty peaks of the mountain barrier which must be scaled by the adventurous travelers before they could hope to reach the slopes, on the west, leading down to the blue waters of the Pacific. Somehow the knowledge that on this summer day they had almost arrived at another positive stage of their great undertaking inspired their hearts with fresh hope. And in that cheering atmosphere camp was made when the shadows began to fall. CHAPTER XII ON FISHING BENT "IF you think you can get on without me, Dick, I'd like to slip away for a little time," Roger was saying, after the boats had been run ashore, the horses tethered among the trees, and preparations for supper, with an attendant air of bustle, were well underway. Of course Dick knew what was in the wind. He had not forgotten the remark made by his comrade that, if the chances were favorable, he meant to spend half an hour or so that evening collecting worms and grubs to be used as bait when they tried their luck at fishing on the next day. "To be sure I can," he told Roger, with a smile. "All you have to do is to trot along with your hatchet, and something to put the grubs in--if you find any."