that!" she
cried, as the trout darted straight for the bottom, bending the rod
till the tip was submerged. "Condy, I'll lose him--I know I shall;
you, YOU take the rod!"

"Not for a thousand dollars! Steady, there, he's away again! Oh, talk
about SPORT!"

Yard by yard Blix reeled in until they began to see the silver glint of
the trout's flanks through the green water. She brought him nearer.
Swimming parallel with the boat, he was plainly visible from his
wide-opened mouth--the hook and fly protruding from his lower jaw--to
the red, quivering flanges of the tail. His sides were faintly
speckled, his belly white as chalk. He was almost as long as Condy's
forearm.

"Oh, he's a beauty! Oh, isn't he a beauty!" murmured Condy. "Now,
careful, careful; bring him up to the boat where I can reach him;
e-easy, Blix. If he bolts again, let him run."

Twice the trout shied from the boat's shadow, and twice, as Blix gave
him his head, the reel sang and hummed like a watch-man's rattle. But
the third time he came to the surface and turned slowly on his side,
the white belly and one red fin out of the water, the gills opening and
shutting. He was tired out. A third time Blix drew him gently to the
boat's side. Condy reached out and down into the water till his very
shoulder was wet, hooked two fingers under the distended gills, and
with a long, easy movement of the arm swung him into the boat.

Their exultation was that of veritable children. Condy whooped like an
Apache, throwing his hat into the air; Blix was hardly articulate, her
hands clasped, her hair in disarray, her eyes swimming with tears of
sheer excitement. They shook each other's hands; they talked wildly at
the same time: they pounded on the boat's thwarts with their fists;
they laughed at their own absurdity; they looked at the trout again and
again, guessed at his weight, and recalled to each other details of the
struggle.

"When he broke that time, wasn't it grand?"

"And when I first felt him bite! It was so sudden--why, it actually
frightened me. I never--no, never in my life!" exclaimed Blix, "was so
happy as I am at this moment. Oh, Condy, to think--just to THINK!"

"Isn't it glory hallelujah?"

"Isn't it better than teas, and dancing, and functions?"

"Blix--how old are we?"

"I don't care how old we are; I think that trout will weigh two pounds."

When they were calm again, they returned to their fishing. The morning
passed, and