wiched as it now was between egg-boats
and painted Tritons she could not--for
the moment--remember where.

"Fine day! Having luck? Catching
anything?" hailed the Scoutmaster, with
genial interest, as one woodsman to another,
for the figure was angling with a fly-rod.

The latter shot a side long glance at the
party from under a broad Panama hat,--then
jammed that, rather uncivilly, further
down upon his head.

"Bah! The fish aren't ex-act-ly jumping
out of the water, saying 'Hullo!' to
you!" it returned in the freakish drawl of
a masked battery, shrinking deeper into
cover amid the ferns.

Yet, when the Nature students had
passed on, one quivering girl, with ears
intently on the alert, heard it fire off something
in the same fern-cloaked rumble
about a certain fly being a "perfect peach"
to fish with.

And the answer came in clear, ringing,
boyish tones--from another angler pre-
[[204]]

p203 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p204w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p205

v?