THE BOY AND THE BROOK 17 



proceeded to support his request with reasons. 

 " The biggest trout are down there. Edwin 

 Crumb caught one that weighed 'most a pound 

 down there last week. There are no big ones in 

 the pasture-lot. I'll be careful, and I'm 'most 

 seven now, you know." It was a momentous 

 question. For two miles after leaving the bridge 

 the brook ran through the woods, and the mother 

 fancied all manner of possible and impossible dan- 

 gers to her boy lurking among those trees. But 

 then, the lad must be allowed to go out of her sight 

 some time, and the day was full of sunshine. 



"If you'll be very careful, and not go far, and be 

 back early, you may go." " Whoop ! " and a 

 small boy has disappeared from view before the 

 permission is fairly spoken. No blue pole this 

 time. The brush and alders are too thick and the 

 pole too long. It is only a small birch limb, six 

 feet long, possibly, that he pulls out from under 

 the barn as he hurries to get out of hearing before 

 the mother repents her rashness. 



What a day that was! He has not gone far 

 before, alongside the alders in the swift water, 

 almost at his feet, he captures a larger trout than 

 any ever granted him by the pasture-lot. He cuts 

 a stringer from the over-hanging alders, and with 

 fish in one hand and pole in the other proceeds on 

 his adventurous way. For some time he steals 

 along the gravelly bed of the brook, eagerly expec- 

 tant but without getting even a bite. Certainly 



