TIRED, BUT DELIGHTED 235 



coming in, but he hangs back. There he jumps. 

 " Go it again that was a weak jump, and 

 probably your last one." He threshes his head 

 and holds back, reminding one of a prairie 

 pony, when first halter-broken. But it's of no 

 avail come you must ; and come he does, now 

 only a few feet away. Now, old gaff, do your 

 work, and over the gunwale he has come, and 

 is dancing the fisher's hornpipe in the bottom. 

 "Well done, Mr. P., well done!" comes to 

 my ears from the shore, where half a dozen or 

 more, who had seen me fast to the fellow and 

 alone with a broken rod, stood watching the 

 performance, and thus greeted me. While I 

 felt very tired, I must freely confess I was 

 greatly delighted. 



Sundown was near, so I concluded not to 

 fish more then, but land and get my rod 

 repaired for early morning ; so I poled the boat 

 to the shore, and there met the friends men- 

 tioned before, two of them taking my fish to 

 Tybert's Hotel at the village, half a mile 

 below. 



My success was made all the more apparent 

 by meeting a team containing two Halifaxians 

 with their guides, returning from an all-day's 



