A Boatload of Excitement 



and her sister, who had decided at the last moment to 

 come along for the air and to help her rough it on 

 the veranda, shared these violent antipathies. 



Well, the apprehensions these two young ladies en- 

 joyed were both dire and numerous, and before I 

 could even inveigle them into a rowboat I had to 

 promise not to catch " one of those terrible fish " I had 

 been talking about. Can you beat that ? Imagine hav- 

 ing to promise not to catch a fish. 



You see, my notion was to first overcome their fear 

 of the water, then to begin on perch and lead gradually, 

 and, in a manner of speaking, imperceptibly up to Mr. 

 Muskey. It was a good enough plan, but then, of 

 course, one never can depend upon fish. 



I left my tackle at the cottage as per agreement, 

 and we at last fared forth on the tranquil bosom of the 

 lake. Nothing more eventful than a short boat ride 

 would have been the result, had not some careless bird 

 gone away and left an old cane pole in the very boat 

 I had picked out, and, as I chanced to notice, this pole 

 had a good strong line to it, and a well baited hook. 

 It looked good to me. 



I am not crazy about rowing, and besides, it was a 

 warmish sort of day, and in a short time I was pleased 

 to note that my passengers, or " scholars " as Izaak 

 would have naively called them, grew tired of being 

 hauled aimlessly around in the broiling sun, and began 

 piteously to moan for the cool piazza of the hotel. 



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