There was a run of some fifteen minutes while not a word was spoken. The only sound was the regular dip, dip, dip of the paddles, propelling the canoe onward. Pop, the extremist, was either so talkative that he’d “gab the ear off a brass monkey,” to use Nick Looker’s expression, or else he kept strict silence. Bug Eye was content to dream of the possibilities of his Fishmobile, and Teddy was wondering how his father was making out. “They ought to be about in a line with us,” the boy thought, “though far back behind those mountains. Hope they reach the cattle about the time we get there. If that herd has done much wandering--” He shook his head dubiously. If they had traveled that far off their own range, there was no telling how much farther they would go. Teddy hoped they would travel beyond the danger of the landslide the stranger had told about. Roy’s thoughts were in a rather chaotic condition. The discovery of The Pup had bothered him more than he cared to admit. Why was it he was headed toward the Whirlpool River Ranch--Jake Trummer’s place? Of course, it might be that he took that route because it offered the greatest protection. Unconsciously Roy echoed Pop Burns’ thoughts, and decided that the heavy brush along the river would certainly be ideal for the concealment of a fugitive. Presently his cogitations were interrupted by Bug Eye, who called out: “How about this place ahead? Me, I’m gettin’ hungry! All right, Roy?” “Sure, I guess so.” Roy gazed at the small cove, then nodded. “Fine, Bug Eye. Get her up close, and I’ll hop out and pull the canoe up. Steady--” He leaped to the bank and grasped the bow of the craft. This he held while the others stood up and tossed the blankets, food, and rifles on the shore. Then the canoe was drawn up until it was nearly out of water. “She stood up well,” Teddy remarked, looking down at the boat. “To-morrow will tell. We’ll hit the rapids then, and give the ole raft a good try-out. Oh, baby, I’m stiff!” He stretched high and wide. “I’d hate to live in a canoe.” “I’d hate to live in a suitcase, too, but why worry about things like that?” Roy laughed. “Here, you navigator, see what you find.” He handed his brother a rifle. “If you catch anything less than three inches, throw ’em back.” “Now, by golly, that’s an idea!” Teddy exclaimed. “Fishing with a rifle. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it done. I’d like to try it.” “How do you mean?” Pop asked interestedly, ceasing from his labors of untying the blanket roll. “Why, shoot the fish!” The old man cackled sarcastically. “You heard of it, hey? Well, I’ve heard of a willyloo bird, too, but I never seen any. But go right ahead. Have yore fun.” “Just to show you it _can_ be done, I will!” Teddy declared, and strode resolutely to the water’s edge. “What would you like, trout or pickerel?” “Chocolate.” Bug Eye responded, with a grin. “Let ’er ride, Teddy.”