The Poisoned Pool 



bination of April showers and March snows, that kept 

 us indoors most of the time. And what a long, dreary 

 week it was! Our patience knew no bounds. The 

 days appeared interminably long, and every morning 

 when we looked out our hearts sank within us at the 

 dismal prospects before us. Finally one evening the 

 clouds fell apart, and the next morning was bright 

 and clear, foretelling a perfect Spring day. Losing 

 no time, we ate a hurried breakfast, dug some worms 

 out in the garden, and with hearts full of subdued 

 excitement, started out a second time for the pool. 



In spite of our long walk, when we came in sight 

 of the pool, which was off the road some distance 

 down in a meadow, we broke into a run, so great was 

 our impatience, and reached it out of breath and in 

 a flutter of excitement. 



Casting a glance over the smooth sheet of water 

 spread out so entrancingly before us, we hurriedly 

 adjusted our tackle, baited our hooks, and were just 

 in the act of making our first cast when we were 

 suddenly halted by an overgrown country boy, much 

 older than ourselves, who appeared mysteriously upon 

 the scene. The boy, a sort of rural Job Trotter, was 

 not an entire stranger to us. We had gone to school 

 with him the previous winter, and knew him to hate 

 him, believing there was nothing too mean and des- 

 picable for him to do. He lived in the house in sight 



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