This time the more fortunate cricket swam and hopped across the stream to safety.
When Joe's eyes were thoroughly accustomed to the clear water, with its deceiving lights and shades, he saw a fish lying snug under the side of a stone.

The lad thought he recognized the snub-nose, the hooked, wolfish jaw, but he could not get sufficient of a view to classify him.

He crawled to a more advantageous position farther down stream, and then he peered again through the woods.

Yes, sure enough, he had espied a trout.

He well knew those spotted silver sides, that broad, square tail.