A PLACID RUNAWAY 7 



it, blow over us, and the sun, that was making 

 anemones and arbutus every minute, warm 

 us through. It was almost too good to begin, 

 this day that we had stolen. I felt like a 

 child with a toothsome cake &quot;I ll put it 

 away for a while and have it later.&quot; 



But, after all, it was already begun. We 

 had not stolen it, it had stolen us, and it held 

 us in its power. Soon we wandered on, at 

 first hastening for the mere joy of motion and 

 the freshness of things; then, as the wind 

 lessened and the sun shone hot in the hollows, 

 loitering more and more, dropping a line here 

 and there where a deep pool looked suggest 

 ive. Trout? Yes, we caught some. Jonathan 

 pulled in a good many; I got enough to seem 

 industrious. I seldom catch as many as Jona 

 than, though he tries to give me all the best 

 holes ; because really there are so many other 

 things to attend to. Men seem to go fishing 

 chiefly to catch fish. Jonathan spends half 

 an hour working his rod and line through a 

 network of bushes, briers, and vines, to drop 

 it in a chosen spot in a pool. He swears gently 

 as he works, but he works on, and usually 

 gets his fish. I don t swear, so I know I could 



