he wandered one soft, delightful morning, rod
in hand, down to the river-side.

The river-side! There is something restfully suggestive in the very
words. The quiet pools, the gurgling deeps, the rushing rapids, the
rippling shallows, the little cascades--what ardent hopes, what wild
suggestions, what grand possibilities these have for the young; what
gentle excitations, what pleasant, even though sad, memories for the
old!

Of course the non-fisher knows nothing of all this. His terrestrial
joys are limited, poor thing! The painter, indeed, has some part in the
matter--as regards his own line, so to speak--and when he goes on what
is vulgarly termed his own hook. We have profound sympathy with the
painter. But for the poor fellow who neither fishes nor paints, alas!
To be sure he may botanise. Strange to say, we had almost forgotten
that! and also geologise; but our concern at present is with fishers,
or, rather, with that fishing enthusiast, MacRummle.

The sunshine of his face was second only to that of Nature. His visage
beamed with satisfaction; his eyes gleamed with hope, as he sat down on
the bank near to his first pool, and began to select flies.

We have probably given the impression that MacRummle was alone, but this
is not strictly correct. In his own estimation he was, indeed, in
absolute solitude, and, so far, his felicity was unbroken; but his steps
had been dogged that morning, and the dogger was Junkie.

That eccentric youngster possessed a mind which it is not easy to
analyse or describe. One strong element in it, however, was curiosity.
Another was ambition. The blending of these two qualities produced
wonder in Junkie--wonder that he, though as ardent a sportsman as
MacRummle, should go forth frequently to fish and catch little or
nothing, while the old gentleman went out and was wont to return with
baskets full to overflowing. There must be a secret of some sort. He
did not like to ask what that secret was, so he made up his mind to
follow the old man and watch him--not of course with the slightest
intention of doing anything sly or wrong, but secretly, because he was
well aware that MacRummle did not like to be distracted by company--
especially _his_ company!

Following, then, at a respectful distance, and relying for success very
much on the fisher's partial blindness and deafness, Junkie went out to
have a day of it. He even went so far, in the matter of forethought, as
to p