THE LONE FISHER 



They were unlike other scions of royalty in that industry was 

 a marked trait among them — industry fortified by intelli- 

 gence, and supplemented by vigilance and loyalty. 



None but a wife prejudiced by love could call the lone 

 fisherman handsome. Though his colors were attractive — 

 grayish-blue with touches of white, and broad belt of a 

 deeper shade — there was something wrong with his architec- 

 ture. His head seemed too large for his body; his bill, the 

 Greek nose of his ancestors, was far too large for his face; 

 and his eyes were undeniably beady, giving him a crafty ap- 

 pearance. He wore a crown, to be sure, as befitted one of his 

 station, but it was often rakishly awry. And, worst of all, 

 he walked on his legs, clear up to his drumsticks, instead of 

 on his feet. 



But, like a dutiful wife, his mate never noticed the un- 

 attractive points about him, but, instead, was wont to dwell 

 on his sterling qualities. Indeed, as far as appearances were 

 concerned, she herself was not unlike him, except that her 

 belt was different in color. Like all wives and daughters of 

 her race she was girdled by a band of reddish chestnut. 



As she sat in her darkened room she was often cheered 

 by visits from her consort, who never came without bringing 

 some dainty, in the shape of fish or frog. These were always 

 graciously accepted and swallowed whole. It was only after 

 his departure that the bones and other superfluous portions 

 of his offering were disgorged. 



To a casual observer these might appear to litter up the 

 house somewhat; to the occupant they were necessary articles 

 of furniture, on which the little ones would exercise their 

 baby claws when they were old enough to go in for gym- 

 nastics. 



In due course of time the infant bills poked their 



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