Glen had not neglected to light a fire before he began his fishing, and by the time half a dozen of the dainty little fellows were caught a fine bed of hot coals was awaiting them. The boy knew very little of the art of cooking, but what he did know was ample for the occasion. His fish were speedily cleaned, laid on the coals for a minute, turned, left a minute longer, and eaten. When the first half-dozen had disappeared he caught more, and treated them in the same way. He had no salt, no condiments, no accessories of any kind, save the sauce of a hunger closely allied to starvation; but that supplied everything. It rendered that feast of half-cooked brook-trout the most satisfactory meal he had ever eaten.