ge of four pounds. He had succeeded far beyond his wildest
hopes.

The next year his success became even more astonishing. They went to the
Titan Club in Canada. The ugliest and most inaccessible sheet of
water in that territory is Lake Pharaoh. But it is famous for the
extraordinary fishing at a certain spot near the outlet, where there
is just room enough for one canoe. They camped on Lake Pharaoh for six
weeks, by Mrs. De Peyster's command; and her canoe was always the first
to reach the fishing-ground in the morning, and the last to leave it in
the evening.

Some one asked him, when he returned to the city, whether he had good
luck.

"Quite fair," he tossed off in a careless way; "we took over three
hundred pounds."

"To your own rod?" asked the inquirer, in admiration.

"No-o-o," said Beekman, "there were two of us."

There were two of them, also, the following year, when they joined the
Natasheebo Salmon Club and fished that celebrated river in Labrador. The
custom of drawing lots every night for the water that each member was
to angle over the next day, seemed to be especially designed to fit the
situation. Mrs. De Peyster could fish her own pool and her husband's
too. The result of that year's fishing was something phenomenal. She had
a score that made a paragraph in the newspapers and called out editorial
comment. One editor was so inadequate to the situation as to entitle the
article in which he described her triumph "The Equivalence of Woman." It
was well-meant, but she was not at all pleased with it.

She was now not merely an angler, but a "record" angler of the most
virulent type. Wherever they went, she wanted, and she got, the pick
of the water. She seemed to be equally at home on all kinds of streams,
large and small. She would pursue the little mountain-brook trout in
the early spring, and the Labrador salmon in July, and the huge speckled
trout of the northern lakes in September, with the same avidity and
resolution. All that she cared for was to get the best and the most of
the fishing at each place where she angled. This she always did.

And Beekman,--well, for him there were no more long separations from
the partner of his life while he went off to fish some favourite stream.
There were no more home-comings after a good day's sport to find her
clad in cool and dainty raiment on the verandah, ready to welcome him
with friendly badinage. There was not even any casting of the fly around
Hard