"Now," she said--"now that the pastime of card-playing is over, we
will return to the serious business of life, which is the
catching--no, ' KILLING'of lake trout."
At five o'clock in the afternoon, Condy pulled up the anchor of
railroad iron and rowed back to Richardson's. Blix had six trout
to her credit, but Condy's ill-luck had been actually ludicrous.
"I can hold a string in the water as long as anybody," he
complained, "but I'd like to have the satisfaction of merely
changing the bait OCCASIONALLY. I've not had a single bite--not a
nibble, y' know, all day. Never mind, you got the big trout,
Blix; that first one. That five minutes was worth the whole day.
It's been glorious, the whole thing. We'll come down here once a
week right along now."
But the one incident that completed the happiness of that
wonderful day occurred just as they were getting out of the boat
on the shore by Richardson's. In a mud-hole between two rocks
they discovered a tiny striped snake, hardly bigger than a lead
pencil, in the act of swallowing a little green frog, and they
passed a rapt ten minutes in witnessing the progress of this
miniature drama, which culminated happily in the victim's escape,
and triumph of virtue.
"That," declared Blix as they climbed into the old buggy which was
to take them to the train, "was the one thing necessary. That
made the day perfect."
They reached the city at dusk, and sent their fish, lunch-basket,
and rods up to the Bessemers' flat by a messenger boy with an
explanatory note for Blix's father.
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