ong the mountains when the valley escapes,"
commented Mrs. Arnold. "I don't think it will be much this afternoon, if
there's rain at all. The patrols know what to do if it begins. This grey
sky will be good for fishing."

Mrs. Arnold was an enthusiastic angler, and had brought her
fishing-tackle with her to camp. She intended that afternoon to hire a
boat from the farm and see if she could beguile some of the wily trout
from the lake.

"I'll take four girls with me," she announced: "two to row, one to
steer, and one to help with the landing-net."

Needless to say, she could have had dozens of volunteers, but her choice
fell on Kathleen Simpson, Ruth White, Gladys Broughton, and Evie
Isherwood, who, highly elated, went off to unmoor the boat. Then, Ruth
and Kathleen rowing, and Gladys steering, they made gently down the lake
towards the west end, where the stream flowed out.

Pretty Mrs. Arnold looked particularly charming in a blue-and-white
boating-costume, with a little blue fisherman's cap perched on her fair
hair. It was the fashion for the girls to adore her, and she certainly
had four whole-hearted admirers with her that afternoon, ready to be at
her beck and call, and to perform any service she wished. They followed
her instructions to the letter, and watched her line and reel with tense
eagerness.

"I hope we may catch some salmon trout," said Mrs. Arnold; "they're much
more delicate than the ordinary ones. If we've luck we may get enough at
any rate to give Miss Bowes and Miss Teddington a dish for supper. Row
gently along there, I saw a fish jump; if it's hungry it may fancy my
fly. Good biz! there's a bite. I'll have to play him gently; he feels a
strong fellow. Are you ready, Evie, with the landing-net?"

It was frightfully exciting as Mrs. Arnold wound her reel, and the prey
came within reach. Was he really hooked, or would he break away at the
last moment and disappoint them?

"We've got him! We've got him! Quick, Evie! Oh, I say! Isn't he
splendid?"

A silvery-grey, gleaming, glittering object was leaping in the
landing-net at the bottom of the boat.

"Oh, what luck!" yelled Evie.

"He must be a patriarch!" cried the rowers.

"I can't see him. Oh, do let me look!" squealed Gladys, forgetting
everything in her eagerness. "Ruth, you're in the way. I must look."

And up she sprang, trying to push past Ruth and Kathleen.

"Sit still!" shouted Mrs. Arnold frantically, but the mischief was done.