Part Two - Along the Eagle Rock Brook

Paul felt very sorry for Mr. Welles, and shook his head pityingly as he
went off for more firewood.

When he had collected a lot, he began to lay the sticks. He did it just
as Father had showed him, but it seemed lots harder to get them right.
And it took a lot more than one match to get it started. He didn't have
a bit of breath left in him, by the time he finally got it going. And
my, weren't his hands black! But he felt very much set up, all the same,
that he had done it. In his heart Paul knew that there was nothing
anybody could do which he could not.

They hung the slimpsy slices of bacon from forked sticks, Paul showing
Mr. Welles how to thread his on, and began to cook them around the edges
of the fire, while the two little trout frizzled in the frying-pan. "I'm
so glad we got that last one," commented Paul. "One wouldn't have been
very much."

"Yes, it's much better to have one apiece," agreed Mr. Welles.

When the bacon was done (only burned a little at the edges, and still
soft in the thicker places in the center of the slice), and the fish the
right brown, and 'most shrunk up to nothing, they each of them put a
trout and a piece of bacon on his slice of bread and butter, and
gracious! didn't it taste good.