ced by over their heads, and slim blue
dragon-flies came and poised on their lines and fishing-rods, bowing
their backs.

From his seat in the bow, Condy cast a glance at Blix. She was holding
her rod in both hands, absorbed, watchful, very intent. She was as
trim as ever, even in the old clothes she had worn for the occasion.
Her round, strong neck was as usual swathed high and tight in white,
and the huge dog-collar girdled her waist according to her custom. She
had taken off her hat. Her yellow hair rolled back from her round
forehead and cool pink cheeks like a veritable nimbus, and for the
fiftieth time Condy remarked the charming contrast of her small,
deep-brown eyes in the midst of this white satin, yellow hair, white
skin, and exquisite pink cheeks.

An hour passed. Then two.

"No fish," murmured Condy, drawing in his line to examine the bait.
But, as he was fumbling with the flies he was startled by a sharp
exclamation from Blix.

"Oh-Condy-I've-got-a-bite!"

He looked up just in time to see the tip of her rod twitch, twitch,
twitch. Then the whole rod arched suddenly, the reel sang, the line
tautened and cut diagonally through the water.

"You got him! you got him!" he shouted, palpitating with excitement.
"And he's a good one!"

Blix rose, reeling in as rapidly as was possible, the butt of the
twitching, living rod braced against her belt. All at once the rod
straightened out again, the strain was released, and the line began to
slant rapidly away from the boat.

"He's off!" she cried.

"Off, nothing! HE'S GOING TO JUMP. Look out for him, now!"

And then the two watching from the boat, tense and quivering with the
drama of the moment, saw that most inspiriting of sights--the "break"
of a salmon-trout. Up he went, from a brusque explosion of ripples and
foam--up into the gray of the morning from out the gray of the water:
scales all gleaming, hackles all a-bristle; a sudden flash of silver, a
sweep as of a scimitar in gray smoke, with a splash, a turmoil, an
abrupt burst of troubled sound that stabbed through the silence of the
morning, and in a single instant dissipated all the placid calm of the
previous hours.

"Keep the line taut," whispered Condy, gritting his teeth. "When he
comes toward you, reel him in; an' if he pulls too hard, give him his
head."

Blix was breathing fast, her cheeks blazing, her eyes all alight.

"Oh," she gasped, "I'm so afraid I'll lose him! Oh, look at