The water ran noisily down over the stones, save here and there where there were deep pools.
"It's narrow enough, at one point below here, to jump over," Dave volunteered.
"Thank you," replied Dick, "but just at present I'm not for jumping over this brook." "Well, then, what on earth does interest you ?" Dan asked.

"This isn't the first time you've seen this stream.

You passed it down by the lake, though down there it runs more smoothly." "I know," Dick nodded.

"I remember the fallen tree we used for a bridge, and I'm simply ashamed of myself that I didn't think more about this stream at the time---but my head was then too full of the lake mystery and the chap with the haunting face.
But now-----" "Well ?" demanded Tom impatiently.
"Reade, old fellow," Dick answered solemnly, turning back from peering at one of the quiet pools in the creek, "you're a wonder at black bass fishing, no doubt.

My tastes ran to another form of sport.