REMINISCENT TALES 



journey, but suddenly slipped when in sight 

 of the place where he had been fishing. 



He tried to save himself. It was in vain. 

 Towards the bottom of the ravine he rolled 

 over and over. A fair-sized tree, felled by a 

 stroke of lightning, saved his life most for- 

 tunately. 



His trousers caught on a branch, tearing 

 them badly, but enabling him to hold on 

 tightly when he forcibly struck the tree. The 

 rest of the way he crawled on his hands and 

 knees. 



On his way homeward, with the sky as a 

 background, three sharply defined silhouettes 

 held his attention. Indians! War bonnets, 

 war paint, rifles, and addenda. The Angler 

 was scared. His fears were without founda- 

 tion. 



They passed on their way without giving 

 him a glance. That evening, when he related 

 the incident, Macey told him that once in a 

 long time the Indians of that part of the 

 country had a war dance and a big pow-wow. 



The next day the Angler returned to Port- 

 land, but not with "Katie Long." 



62 



