242 CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHIE. 



his fishing-. He threshed the water fearfully with his big 

 line and hea\y bait, but caught nothing. I was so 

 impressed with the fellow's consideration that I wanted to 

 see him catch something. 



" jNIy friend," I calted out, "you are not having much 

 luck with bait, are you?" 



"No; — guess I've got too big a hook, or something, — 

 they don't seem to care a cent for worms to-day." 



■ I think 1 can help you," said T; "if you'll come to the 

 bank here, and throw me ^our line, I'll give 3^ou a tly that 

 the trout seem \o like. — There, that brown hackle, — a 

 prettj' good sized one, you see, — has been tlie lucky one 

 for us. I liope it will be for you " 



"Thank j^ou, ever so mucli," the honest fellow replied, 

 as I noosed it on the end of his line and tossed it into the 

 water. That night, at Dodds's, I found he had caught a 

 " good mess " of trout, and I bad made a friend. I parted 

 from hiiu witli the proud consciousness of having both 

 rewarded and stinudaU'd a virtue. 



Saturday night found us all at the home-camp again, 

 where we six'iil a (juiet Sunday, the Captain's example and 

 luiuttcred ordeis having a most I)enign effect; — although I 

 aui not sure but certain ])ooks wilh feathers and steel in 

 them were coimed rather than those for which we owe 

 thanks to the art pi-eser\'ati\'e; and the ((uestion was more 

 than once raised, " Have we a tailor among us? " A week 

 of our vacation was gone, and already the shadow of our 

 leave taking from our sylvan home and the delights of life 

 in the woods was beginning to settle down upon our hearts. 



