Where Town and Country Meet 



cot, suddenly caught up his rod, which had 

 been resting upon the side of the boat, and 

 "snubbed," as the local fishermen say, with 

 all his might. Instantly the slender tip of 

 the rod bent in crescent shape, and the line 

 began traveling back and forth through the 

 water with that tremulous, erratic motion 

 which proclaims to the experienced fisher 

 man that a big fellow has the hook firmly 

 bedded in his mouth. 



"Pa!" cried the boy. It was the only 

 word spoken. The veteran calmly drew in 

 his line and laid his rod across the thwarts. 

 Then he picked up the landing-net and stood 

 waiting to see on which side the struggling 

 trout would consent to be brought up to 

 the boat. The boy was a cool-headed little 

 chap, and he played his fish well. Several 

 times he checked a rush for an adjacent 

 snag, and once his reel sang out merrily, 

 as he gave the big trout line enough for a 

 slanting plunge straight down to the bot 

 tom. Then, inch by inch, he coaxed his fish 

 nearer the boat, tiring him out meanwhile, 

 until we could all see the broad-backed cap 

 tive sailing near the surface, and now and 

 then making a feeble effort to dive under 

 96 



