grayling captured in Michigan waters, and carried his dinner while he was fighting with the big trout in Rangeley Lakes. He went with him on one of his Western tours, and would certainly have fallen into the hands of the Utes when they arose in rebellion and massacred all the whites they could find, had it not been for the fact that he was slung over his master's shoulder, and the latter was in too great a hurry to stop and throw him off. He had many thrilling recollections of the Indian Lake country, for he had been capsized on the rapids more times than he could remember. He was a good talker, and as full of stories as the canvas canoe.
"Well, sir," said Uncle Joe, as he deposited his rod and creel on the table, "what are the prospects?"
"Couldn't be better," replied the boy. "It's cloudy, and there is every sign of rain before noon."
"I hope it will stay cloudy, but I can't say that I want to see it rain," said Uncle Joe, as he drew a chair up to the table and took the cup of coffee his nephew poured out for him.
