HUNTLBY'S LAKE. 67 



a very hearty supper, during which Tom had appro- 

 priated for his sole benefit the large perch as he had 

 promised he would, we sat down outside the veranda, 

 and while Tom's wife did some sewing Tom entertained 

 me with small talk on his innumerable ailments. All 

 at once, without a moment's warning, Tom bounded 

 about six feet into the air, let out a yell that scared 



"I'M A DEAD MAN; I'VE SAV ALLOWED THAT FISHHOOK" 



everyone within the ward, and approaching me with a 

 white, scared face, exclaimed: 



"Charley, I'm a dead man; I've swallowed that fish- 

 hook! Oh, what a cussed fool I was to eat that big 

 perch!" 



"Stuff and nonsense," I answered, "you couldn't have 

 swallowed a No. 4 fishhook without noticing it." 



"But I did! I did!" he moaned. "Oh, what a miserable 

 wretch I am! Think of the agonizing death in store 

 for me! Oh, Charley, why didn't you eat that perch 



