brought up the basket, the water streaming from it
as it did from Simple Simon's sieve, and in the bottom, wriggling and
squirming, lay four fine trout. Tommy seized the basket, and in an
instant the fish were within the cask, in their native element again,
though in rather close quarters. The boys hung over the barrel, gazing
at the pretty creatures with intense delight. The sun shone down into
the water, making the bright spots on their sides look like gold.

"Never mind, little trout," said Franky; "you are not going to be
hurt--only moved to our fish-pond."

Do you not think they enjoyed that day far more because there was no
cruelty in their sport?

Their amusement was varied by a delicious lunch, and an occasional
ramble through the woods. Towards evening they drove home, elated with
their success. The cask contained nearly as many fish as could swim.
The second cask was filled with fresh water, to replace that in the
first when it should no longer be fit for the use of the fish. These
delicate little trout are so sensitive to any impurity, that they
could not have remained in the same water during the drive home
without suffering. Indeed, they might have died before reaching the
pond.

My young readers may not know that fish breathe an element of the
water which is a part of air also. In fact, the same element which
sustains us sustains them also, viz., oxygen. Only one ninth part of
water, however, is oxygen, while of air it is one fifth. I dare say
you have all seen goldfishes, shut up in crystal prisons, swimming
their endless round in a quart or two of water. Perhaps you have
observed them lifting their heads above the surface, mouths wide open,
gasping for breath. The oxygen is exhausted from the water, and unless
it be speedily changed their mistress will lose her beautiful pets.

The trout were put into the pond--a small beginning, to be sure; but
it _was_ a beginning. How lonely they must have been at first! What a
boundless ocean it must have seemed to them!

We will hope they found some cosy harbor in the grassy-lined sides of
the island, where they could meet together and talk over their strange
experience of moving. Plenty of company came soon, however; for all
the boys in the neighborhood were interested in stocking the pond.

A boat was in progress in Mr. Davy's tool-house. The boys watched
every inch of its growth, from the shaping of the skeleton frame to
the last dash of the paint-brush.