So he cut Quincy out of his calculations and decided that he would phone down for a camp outfit and grub, and visit one or two of the places that he had been looking at for so long.

For one thing, he could climb down to the lake he had been staring into for nearly a month, and see if he could catch any trout.

Occasionally he had seen fishermen down there casting their lines in, but none of them had seemed to have much luck.

For all that the lake lured him, it was so blue and clear, set away down there in the cupped mountain top.

Hank had advised him to bait with a salmon-roe on a Coachman fly.