From his perch beside Father on the wagon, he spied a flash of silver beyond the waving prairie grass. “What’s that, Father? It must be a lake.” “Yes, Ben, I think that’s Island Lake. Looks like a good spot to go fishing.” Ben almost jumped from the seat. “Can we stop now and catch some fish? Mother would be glad for fish.” Father shook his head. “We’ll have to come some other time. We must get to the forest as fast as we can if we want to be home before tomorrow night.” Ben settled down again, but he kept his eyes on the gleaming lake as long as he could. Dreamily he thought how it would be if he and Father and Flip—maybe even Polly—could go fishing someday. “Whoa!” said Father suddenly. “Do you need a ride?” At first Ben couldn’t figure out to whom Father was speaking. Then he saw a stranger on the other side of the wagon. The man wore a slouchy felt hat pulled far down over his eyes. His beard was a dirty yellow color. His coat and trousers were old and worn.
