The minnow had been badly torn by the teeth of the second trout, so by the light of a couple of wax matches, struck one after the other by Dick, Chippy fixed a fresh bait on the leaded hook. Then they went up to the second pool. 'S'pose yer have a try here,' whispered Chippy to Dick. 'It's as easy as can be. Ye must just let it down an' pull it up again, quiet an' easy. Ye'll know soon enough when a fish lays hold on it. Then give a little jerk to fasten th' 'ook in. Next lug him right up, pullin' smooth an' steady wi'out givin' an inch. If yer do, he'll get away, most likely.' Dick took the rod and let the minnow down into the smooth dark pool where stars were reflected between the shadows of overhanging branches. Down and up, down and up, down and up, he lowered and raised the bait, many, many times, but there was no sign that the pool held a fish. He was about to whisper to Chippy that it was useless to try longer, when there came a tremendous tug, which almost tore the hazel wand out of his grasp. He tightened his clutch convulsively, and in recovering the rod he struck the fish, for at the next moment the tug of a tightly hooked 'big un' shook him from head to foot. Then there was a terrific splash at his feet, which caused his heart to jump into his mouth. The trout had leaped clean out of the water. 'Pull up! Pull up!' yelled Chippy, and Dick pulled. The fish was so firmly hooked that he was still there, and now the rod bent and twisted in Dick's hands as if that, too, were alive and trying to free itself from his wild clutch. Dick raised the fish slowly, for it felt tremendously heavy, and when he had it on the surface it kicked and wallowed till you might have thought a dog was splashing in the water. 'A good swing an' step back,' roared Chippy. Dick obeyed, and gave a big lift. He felt the hazel bend and tremble in his hands, then Chippy pounced on something, and the rod was still. 'Have we got it?' cried Dick breathlessly, for he had felt sure that the trout was too strong for their tackle. 'Got 'im,' snapped Chippy in triumph, 'an' a good un, too. They say it's allus the new hands as get the best luck. We've got plenty now, an' it ain't allowed to tek' more'n we can eat.' This trout was far too big for Chippy to kill with finger and thumb, so he whipped off his jacket, rolled the fish in it, and the two scouts hurried back to the camp fire. Here Chippy despatched the trout by a sharp tap behind its head, delivered with the handle of the tomahawk, and the boys gloated over their prize. It was a fine, short, hog-backed trout, weighing well over three pounds, and in the pink of condition. ''Bout as much as anybody wants to lift out wi' a nut-stick,' commented Chippy, while Dick stared entranced at his glorious shining prize. 'Time to turn in now, I shouldn't wonder,' said the Raven, and the Wolf looked at his watch. 'Close upon ten,' said the latter.