line flics round at a great rate and you begin 
to think that fish must be up to some trick you 
don’t know. You judge he must be a big one, 
since he doesn’t budge an inch in your direction 
though you keep a steady pull on the line; and 
from the way he breaks up the surface of the 
water in thrashing round, you decide he must be 
a pedigree fish that can do a two thirty gait 
and not half try. You don’t get a chance to 
take in any line, and the way the tip of the 
pole rattles on the reel starts you to wondering 
how much longer it will hang together. You 
don’t dare lower the tip of the pole, for fear of 
giving the fish an advantage of you. Pretty 
soon up jumps the trout into the air; but at the 
same time the line is held down in the water, 
and you find out something you didn’t know 
before—there are two trout on the line. You 
take a quick look at the driver. He grins ar 
you and calls out: 
“Keep ’em up! Don’t let up on ’em a min¬ 
ute.” 
It must be as long as ten or twelve minutes 
before those fishes quit thrashing round and 
give you a chance to get in some line. You 
then begin to work them toward shore, and the 
driver edges out to you with the little net. You 
see what he is up to, and move up the stream a 
little. That brings the pair near him as he wades 
out, and in a moment more he is close enough to 
reach them. You can’t remember just how he 
does the trick; but you know he has them both 
in the net by the way he turns and makes for 
the pebbly beach. You hurry down to him all 
in a tremble because of your excitement; but 
after you have looked at the trout a minute you 
make up your mind that your arm trembles be¬ 
cause it is tired. To catch two trout at once is 
something you never thought of. The driver 
seems to be pretty well satisfied, too, and says 
to you: 
“I’ll bet you there won’t be any bigger fish 
than them, in your dad’s basket to-night.” 
If it were not for the driver, you would stick 
to that hole till dark; but he says it is time to 
go in, and after what he has done for you, you 
don’t think it well to argue the matter with him. 
He leads the way to the road, amd as vou make 
for the house tells you not to let on that he has 
been with y u all the afternoon. At the first 
turn in the road below the house, he leaves you 
to walk the rest of the way alone. You under¬ 
stand what he means, and as you saunter into 
the little store where all the others except the 
insurance man, are, pretend you aren’t particu¬ 
larly interested. You dump down your creel 
as though it were a pair of old boots. Daddy 
and the others look in it, and after they appear 
surprised at your good luck, the Colonel says: 
“Well, bub, you beat your Daddy all to 
pieces.” 
You feel as tickled as a dog with a fresh 
bone; but you just grin and make believe fool 
with your flies. Daddy takes a look at what 
you are doing, and asks: 
"Where’d you get the pole and flies?” 
“O, borrowed them of the driver,” you tell 
him. Then the others all look surprised and 
the landlord says: 
I guess it would have been well if some of 
the rest of us had stoned a hornets’ net.” 
After supper you tell Daddy all about the 
driver, and how he came to let you have the 
pole. That tickles him so much he hands you 
a half dollar to give the driver in the morning; 
but you give it to him right off. By and by you 
get sleepy and go out to the barn to turn in, 
because there isn’t room enough in the house 
for the whole crowd. You stay awake only long 
enough to make up your mind that the driver 
is a bully fellow. 
About six o’clock next morning you drop 
down from the hay mow, and make for the 
house; and at the rear door are Daddy and the 
others washing up. You get washed when your 
turn comes to use the basin, and all the time 
you can smell trout frying and coffee cooking. 
The Johnsons have other things to eat at their 
house, too: bacon, fried potatoes, eggs, hot bis¬ 
cuit, preserved wild strawberries, maple syrup 
and milk; and when you are at the table you 
can have some of anything you want. 
After breakfast Daddy takes a chair from the 
dining room, and sits on it in the yard near 
the house. The others sit on the door sill or on 
blocks of wood, except Mrs. Johnson; she sits 
on a chair just inside the dining room door. 
Daddy gets out his pocket Bible and reads a 
chapter; and while he is reading, you hear the 
driver coming round the corner from the barn, 
whistling a lively tune. He makes so much 
noise you don’t think he is coming to the house; 
but in a moment he pokes his head round the 
corner; and as soon as he sees what is going 
on, he lets up on his whistling and jerks him¬ 
self back out of sight. After prayers are over, 
you go with the Colonel to the barn to ger 
something out of the wagon, and there’s the 
driver leaning against one of the wheels and 
picking his teeth with a stalk of timothy hay. 
“Say, Colonel.” he asks, “is that man who was 
reading the Bible, a preacher?” 
“He certainly is,” the Colonel tells him. 
"Didn’t you know that before?” 
“Naw. I didn’t,” he says. “Why the devil 
didn’t you tell me so yesterday when we was 
gettin’ the wagon out of that hole? Bub.” he 
says, turning to you, “you might ’a’ let on to me 
’bout your Dad.” . 
Then the Colonel says: “I did try ’to tell 
you yesterday; but you wouldn’t pay attention 
and told me to quit fooling.” 
“Was that the time you give the nudge?” the 
driver asks. 
“The very time,” says the Colonel. 
“Thunderation ! I’ve got to square myself with 
that preacher,” says the driver. “What is he: 
Methodist, Dutch or Baptist?” 
“Dutch,” the Colonel told him. 
“Well, here goes,” he says. “Say, bub, tell 
your Daddy I want to see him, will you.” 
“You feel- sorry for that driver, and don’t 
want to see him in a scrape, but don’t know 
what to do to help him out. so you chase after 
Daddy and tag back after him when he goes to the 
barn. The driver looks at him for as much as 
a minute before he starts to talk: 
“Dominie,” he says, “I’ll be d—d if I did— 
er—er—I just this minute heard you was a 
preacher, from the Colonel, here. He ought to 
told me plainer, yesterday, when the wagon was 
in that hole. I suppose I was excited and let 
out a few cuss words; but I didn’t know they 
was a preacher along. I didn’t mean nothin’ by 
it. But that was a d—d bad—I mean that was 
a dirty hole, and somebody’ll break an axle in 
it if it ain’t fixed.” 
All the time the driver is talking, Daddy looks 
at him pretty solemn; but you can see he isn’t 
mad. After the driver is through, Daddy says. 
“I once heard a story of a man who apolo¬ 
gized to a clergyman for swearing in his pres¬ 
ence, and the clergyman said to him: ‘If you 
aren’t afraid of the Almighty you needn’t be 
afraid of me.’ Of course, I don’t like to hear 
anyone swear, and I trust you will give up the 
habit, but you offend the Almighty more than 
you do anyone else, when you do it.” 
The driver looks as though he feels better 
than he did at first, and fishes out some of the 
