mouth of the fish.

"My fingers were numbed," he said presently in a casual sort of way;
"and, as the gut broke off at the head, I just left it there."

There was a touch of suspicion, not to say alarm, in the look of
amazement with which the purist received the shrieks of laughter which
simultaneously burst from the other two.

"Pardon me," at length spluttered Brown, "but it is so dashed funny."
Then Grey exploded again, and the purist looked from one to the other.

"Well, well, come along," Brown said at last. There was not a word
spoken during the drive. The echoes were awakened once, on the brow of
the last hill, by the kodakeer, who, without any apparent cause,
exploded with laughter and held his sides. "Pardon me," he remarked,
"but it really is--Oh, lord, hold me!" (Explosion renewed.)

Before alighting at the porch of the hotel, Brown called a halt as the
other two rose to step down from the wagonette. "Let me take a last
shot, please! Do you mind holding the fish up for a moment?" asked he.
Snap! and the thing was done.

"Thanks awfully," said the operator. "That's my thirteenth shot. Oh,
lord, but it _is_ so funny." And the welkin rang with what seemed to
be the mirth of a lunatic. Then Brown wiped the moisture from his eyes
and recovered his breath.

"Shall we wet your salmon inside?" asked Grey, very quietly, and with a
seriousness not obviously germane to a festive occasion.

"Certainly, why not?" answered its captor, much puzzled.

The three men, the door being shut by Grey, after the maid had left the
room, drank to each other. "You'll take that fly out before you send
the salmon away," said Grey suavely.

"Why should I?" curtly answered the culprit, by this time white-faced
enough.

"Well," was the reply, "I'll say nothing about your sneaking down and
fishing my pool when my back was turned, nor even about your poaching
my fish with a big phantom; but we can't have you make it the text of a
discourse on the virtues of fly fishing."

"The fact is," added Brown, "I have thirteen snapshots of the whole
business, and if they develop as I expect they will, they will make an
admirable series under the general title of 'Spinning for Salmon in the
Rowan Pool.' I began with you as you waded in, and finished with you
holding up the poached fish with the fly in its mouth. As Grey says,
we'll forgive you the rest, but can't stand the fly. That means
hypocrisy as well as lying."

The p