"Sure it would. Well, maybe some day folks'll learn that the old times in their country are gone. We act like they wasn't, but that's because we've got no sense--don't know our history. "Now," he added, as they forded one bright, merry stream that crossed their way, "you all ride down the road to where the bridge is--that's the main stream again, and she's pretty big--regular river, all right. Wait for me there at the bridge. I'll see if I can pick out a fish or so. I see a dry quaking asp lying here that some fellow has left, and I'll just try it myself. You know, get a quaking-asp pole that's dry and hasn't been dead too long, it's the lightest and springiest natural fishing rod that grows. The tip is strong enough, if it hasn't rotted, and she handles almost as good as a boughten rod. Now Rob, you lead my horse on down, and I'll try it along the willows with a 'hopper.'" "Oh, let me go along, too!" exclaimed Jesse. "Lead my horse, John?" "All right," said John. "Good luck." At the bridge, a half mile below, the three remaining members of the party picketed the horses on a pleasant grass plat near the road. Rob went exploring for a little way, then, without saying anything, began to get together some dry wood for a fire, and also began cutting some short willow twigs which he sharpened at each end. "The 'old way,' Rob?" said John, smiling. "Yes," nodded Uncle Dick. "Rob has seen what I have seen--there's trout in this water, and grayling, too. Do you see that grayling between the bridge there, over the white bar? I've been watching him rise. So, by the time we get a broiling fire, maybe Rob'll have need for his skewers--to hold a fish flat for broiling before a fire, in the 'old way' we learned in the far North. Eh, Rob?" "That's the way I figured it, sir," replied Rob, smiling. "Billy'll get something on hoppers, at this season, for that's what the trout and grayling are feeding on, right now." Sure enough, in not much over a half hour, Billy and Jesse met them at the bridge, with five fine fish--two grayling and three trout--Jesse very much excited. "All you have to do is just to sneak up and drop a hopper right in the deep water at the bends, and they nail it!" said he. "Billy showed me. He always carries a few hooks and a line in his vest pocket, he told me. Fish all through this country!" It took the boys but a few minutes to split the fish down the back and skewer them flat, without scaling them at all. Then they hung them before the fire, flesh side to the flame, and soon they were sizzling in their own fat. "Now, you can't put them on a plate, Billy!" said Jesse, as Billy began searching in the pack. "Just some salt--that's all. You have to eat it right off the skin, you know." "Well, that ain't no way to eat," grumbled Billy. "It's awful mussy-looking, to my way of thinking."