an hour, anyway."

"Well, then, that's just right. We'll go on up the hillside for half an
hour, and then come back and fish it. Set your rod up against the bayberry
here, and come along--look there! you're almost stepping on some!"

Jonathan, gradually adjusting himself to the turn of things, stood his rod
up against the bush with the meticulous care of the true sportsman. "Where
did you leave yours?" he asked, with a suspiciousness born of a deep
knowledge of my character.

"Oh, down by the bars."

"Standing up or lying down?"

"Lying down, I think. It's all right."

"It's not all right if it's lying down. Anything might trample on it."

"For instance, what?--birds or crickets?"

"For instance, people or cows." He strode down the hill, and I saw him
stoop. As he returned I could read disapproval in his gait. "Will you
never learn how to treat a rod! It was lying just beyond the bars. I must
have landed within two feet of it when I jumped over."

"I'm sorry. I meant to go back. I know perfectly how to treat a rod. My
trouble comes in knowing when to apply my knowledge.{~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} Well, let's go up
there. Near those big hemlocks there's some, I remember." And we wandered
on, separating a little to scan the ground more widely.

Once having pried his mind away from the trout, Jonathan was as keen for
arbutus as I could wish, and soon I heard an exclamation, and saw him
kneel. "Oh, come over!" he called; "you really ought to see this growing!"

"But there's some I want, right here, that's lovely--"

"Never mind. Come and see this--oh, come!"

Of course I come, and of course I am glad I came, and of course soon I am
obliged to call Jonathan to see some I have found--"Jonathan, it is truly
the loveliest _yet!_ It's the way it grows--with the moss and all--please
come!" And of course he comes.

We had been on the hillside a long half-hour, much nearer an hour, when
Jonathan began to grow restive. "Don't you think you have enough?" he
suggested several times. Finally, he spoke plainly of the trout.

"Oh, yes, of course," I said, "you go down and I'll follow just as soon as
I've gone along that upper path."

Not at all. That was not what was wanted. So I turned and we went down the
hill, back to the bend, whose seductions I had been so puzzlingly able to
resist. I am sure Jonathan has never yet quite understood how I could
leave that bit of water at my left hand and turn away to the right.

"Now--