While Archie was getting their fishing-tackle ready, Frank busied
himself in placing on the table in the kitchen such eatables as he
could lay his hands on, for he and his cousin were the only ones up.
Their breakfast was eaten in a hurry; and, after drawing on their
India-rubber coats--for Frank said it would rain before they
returned--they slung on their fish-baskets, and took their trout-poles
in their hands, and started out.
Dungeon Brook lay about five miles distant, through the woods. It was
a long tramp, over fallen logs and through thick bushes; but it was
famous for its large trout, and the boys knew they would be well
repaid for their trouble.
In about two hours they arrived at their destination; and, after
partaking of a lunch, which Frank had brought, they rigged their
"flies," and Archie went up the brook a little distance, to try a
place known among the boys as the "old trout-hole," while Frank
dropped his hook down close to a large log that lay across the stream,
near the place where he was standing.
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