ally she did not care for the _feel_ of
grasshoppers, and their kindred of crawly things, but if she would
accomplish her purpose, she must procure one. She dropped on her knees,
and began her search. There were grasshoppers in plenty, but they were of
a very swift variety. Priscilla darted and dove on this side and that
before she finally caught her prey. With loathing and disgust she
proceeded to pinch his nose and render him helpless. She placed him
awkwardly and none too securely on the hook beneath the little black fly,
strode to the quaking-asps, disentangled her rod and line a dozen times,
and at length managed to drop the baited hook into the creek. Then she
straightened her weary form, grasped her rod firmly in her right hand and
waited. The question was--should she do anything more than wait? Were
one's chances of success greater if she wiggled the rod? Should one just
stand still or walk back and forth, dragging the line after her?

If the trout in the dark pool under the shadow of the quaking-asps had
seen the performance that preceded the appearance of that fly and
grasshopper, he never would have deigned to approach them. But his late
afternoon nap had fortunately prevented, and now supper was before his
very eyes. He darted for the grasshopper and securely seized it.
Priscilla, standing motionless upon the bank, felt a tremor go through the
rod in her hand, saw the tip bend, felt a frightful tug as the fish darted
downstream. Something told her that her dream was realized--that she had
at least _hooked_ a fish!

Had the fish in question been less greedy, he would have assuredly made
his escape. Priscilla knew nothing of the rules of angling. She only knew
that she should never recover from chagrin and shame if that fish eluded
her. She dropped the rod, grasped the line tightly in both hands, slid
down the bank, stood in the creek to her boot-tops, and pulled with all
her might. The trout, hindered by surprise as well as greediness,
surrendered, and Priscilla with trembling hands and glowing eyes drew him
to shore.

It never occurred to her to take him from the hook. Her one thought was to
notify the Vigilantes of her success. Holding the line in one hand, just
above the flapping, defeated trout, and grasping the rod in the other, she
ran with all her might to the cabin, burst in the door, and exhibited her
fish and her dripping, triumphant self to the Vigilantes. Fears of
unlocked doors had fled! It was