There was a splash, not unlike that made by the sharp edge of a
paddle impelled by a short, powerful stroke, the minnow disappeared,
and the broad tail of the fish flapped on the water. The instant
Alfred struck, the water boiled and the big fish leaped clear into
the air, shaking himself convulsively to get rid of the hook. He
made mad rushes up and down the pool, under the canoe, into the
swift current and against the rocks, but all to no avail. Steadily
Alfred increased the strain on the line and gradually it began to
tell, for the plunges of the fish became shorter and less frequent.
Once again, in a last magnificent effort, he leaped straight into
the air, and failing to get loose, gave up the struggle and was
drawn gasping and exhausted to the side of the canoe.

"Are you afraid to touch him?" asked Alfred.

"Indeed I am not," answered Betty.

"Then run your hand gently down the line, slip your fingers in under
his gills and lift him over the side carefully."

"Five pounds," exclaimed Alfred, when the fish lay at his feet.
"This is the largest black bass I ever caught. It is pity to take
such a beautiful fish out of his element."

"Let him go, then. May I?" said Betty.

"No, you have allowed them all to go, even the pickerel which I
think ought to be killed. We will keep this fellow alive, and place
him in that nice clear pool over in the fort-yard."

"I like to watch you play a fish," said Betty. "Jonathan always
hauls them right out. You are so skillful. You let this fish run so
far and then you checked him. Then you gave him a line to go the
other way, and no doubt he felt free once more when you stopped him
again."

"You are expressing a sentiment which has been, is, and always will
be particularly pleasing to the fair sex, I believe," observed
Alfred, smiling rather grimly as he wound up his line.

"Would you mind being explicit?" she questioned.

Alfred had laughed and was about to answer when the whip-like crack
of a rifle came from the hillside. The echoes of the shot
reverberated from hill to hill and were finally lost far down the
valley.

"What can that be?" exclaimed Alfred anxiously, recalling Colonel
Zane's odd manner when they were about to leave the house.

"I am not sure, but I think that is my turkey, unless Lew Wetzel
happened to miss his aim," said Betty, laughing. "And that is such
an unprecedented thing that it can hardly be considered. Turkeys are
scarce this season. Jonath