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“Don’t you call this nice?” asked Tommy, pausing at last in a little dell where a noisy brook came tumbling down the mountain side, and the pines sung overhead.

“Yes; but I’m awful hungry. Let’s rest and eat our lunch,” said Billy, sitting down on a cushion of moss.

“You always want to be stuffing and resting,” answered sturdy Tommy, who liked to be moving all the time.

He took the fishing-basket, which hung over his shoulder by a strap, and opened it carefully; for good Mrs. Mullin had packed a nice lunch of bread and butter, cake and peaches, with a bottle of milk, and two large pickles slipped in on the sly to please the boys.

Tommy’s face grew very sober as he looked in, for all he saw was a box of worms for bait and an old jacket.

“By George! we’ve got the wrong basket. This is Mullin’s, and he’s gone off with our prog. Won’t he be mad?”

“Not as mad as I am. Why didn’t you look? You are always in such a hurry to start. What shall we do now without anything to eat?” whined Billy; for losing his lunch was a dreadful blow to him.

“We shall have to catch some fish and eat blackberries. Which will you do, old cry-baby?” said Tommy, laughing at the other boy’s dismal face.

“I’ll fish; I’m so tired I can’t go scratching round after berries. I don’t love ’em, either.” And Billy began to fix his line and bait his hook.

“Lucky we got the worms; you can eat ’em if you can’t wait for fish,” said Tommy, bustling about to empty the basket and pile up their few possessions in a heap. “There’s a quiet pool below here, you go and fish there. I’ll pick the berries, and then show you how to get dinner in the woods. This is our camp; so fly round and do your best.”

Then Tommy ran off to a place near by where he had seen the berries, while Billy found a comfortable nook by the pool, and sat scowling at the water so crossly, it was a wonder any trout came to his hook. But the fat worms tempted several small ones, and he cheered up at the prospect of food. Tommy whistled while he picked, and in half an hour came back with two quarts of nice berries and an armful of dry sticks for the fire.

“We’ll have a jolly dinner, after all,” he said, as the flames went crackling up, and the dry leaves made a pleasant smell.

“Got four, but don’t see how we’ll ever cook ’em; no frying-pan,” grumbled Billy, throwing down the four little trout, which he had half cleaned.

“Don’t want any. Broil ’em on the coals, or toast ’em on a forked stick. I’ll show you how,” said cheerful Tommy, whittling away, and feeding his fire as much like a real hunter as a small boy could be.

While he worked, Billy ate berries and sighed for bread and butter. At last, after much trouble, two of the trout were half cooked and eagerly eaten by the hungry boys. But they were very different from the nice brown ones Mrs. Mullin gave them; for in spite of Tommy’s struggles they would fall in the ashes, and there was no salt to eat with them. By the time the last were toasted, the young hunters were so hungry they could have eaten anything, and not a berry was left.

“I set the trap down there, for I saw a hole among the vines, and I shouldn’t wonder if we got a rabbit or something,” said Tommy, when the last bone was polished. “You go and catch some more fish, and I’ll see if I have caught any old chap as he went home to dinner.”

Off ran Tommy; and the other boy went slowly back to the brook, wishing with all his might he was at home eating sweet corn and berry pie.