310 RIVERBY 



we met in the middle of a mountain lake. I was 

 casting my fly there when I saw just sketched or 

 etched upon the glassy surface a delicate V-shaped 

 figure, the point of which reached about the middle 

 of the lake, while the two sides as they diverged 

 faded out toward the shore. I saw the point of this 

 V was being slowly pushed toward the opposite 

 shore. I drew near in my boat, and beheld a little 

 mouse swimming vigorously for the opposite shore. 

 His little legs appeared like swiftly revolving wheels 

 beneath him. As I came near he dived under the 

 water to escape me, but came up again like a cork 

 and just as quickly. It was laughable to see him 

 repeatedly duck beneath the surface and pop back 

 again in a twinkling. He could not keep under 

 water more than a second or two. Presently I 

 reached him my oar, when he ran up it and into the 

 palm of my hand, where he sat for some time and 

 arranged his fur and warmed himself. He did not 

 show the slightest fear. It was probably the first 

 time he had ever shaken hands with a human being. 

 He was what we call a meadow mouse, but he had 

 doubtless lived all his life in the woods, and was 

 strangely unsophisticated. How his little round eyes 

 did shine, and how he sniffed me to find out if I 

 was more dangerous than I appeared to his sight. 



After a while I put him down in the bottom of 

 the boat and resumed my fishing. But it was not 

 long before he became very restless and evidently 

 wanted to go about his business. He would climb 

 up to the edge of the boat and peer down into the 



