ive's fishing, stopped in the shade of the willows, somewhat
chagrined. He had come a long way for a talk, and now to be thus held
back by a colored man who seemed to have no idea of the importance of
the mission was provoking.

But there was something authoritative in Shag's manner, and, being a
business man, Harry Bartlett knew better than to make an inauspicious
approach. It would be as bad as slicing his golf ball on the drive.

So he waited beside the silent stream, not so silent as it had been, for
it was disturbed by the movements, up and down, of Colonel Ashley, who
was playing his fish with consummate skill.

Seeing a little green book on the grass where it had fallen, Harry
Bartlett picked it up. Idly opening the pages, he read:

"There is also a fish called a sticklebag, a fish without
scales, but he hath his body fenced with several prickles.
I know not where he dwells in winter, nor what he is good
for in summer, but only to make sport for boys and women
anglers, and to feed other fish that be fish of prey, as
trout in particular, who will bite at him as at a penk, and
better, if your hook be rightly baited with him; for he may
be so baited, as, his tail turning like a sail of a
windmill, will make him turn more quick than any penk or
minnow can."

"I guess I've got the right man," said Harry Bartlett with a smile.

CHAPTER VII. THE INQUEST

"Ready, now, Shag! Ready!" called Colonel Ashley, in tense tones. "Ready
with the net!"

"Yes, sah! All ready!"

"I've got him about ready for you! And he's better than I thought!"

"Yes, sah, Colonel! I won't miss!"

"If you do you may look for another place!" At this dire threat Shag
turned as white as he would ever become, and took a firmer grip on the
"Ready now, Shag!" called the colonel, at the same time directing his
helper to come down the bank toward a little pool whither he was leading
the now well-played fish. "Ready!"

Shag did not speak, but while the colonel slowly reeled in and the tip
of the slender pole bent like a bow, he slipped the net into the water,
under the fish, and, a moment later, had it out on the grass.

"There!" exclaimed the famous detective, with a sigh of relief. "There
he is, and as fine a fish as I've ever landed in these parts! Now,
Shag--"

But there came an interruption. Reasoning that now was a most propitious
time to make his appeal, Harry Bartlett advanced