It was the forenoon of a hazy, breathless day, and Dan Phillips was
trouting up one of the back creeks of the Carleton pond. It was
somewhat cooler up the creek than out on the main body of water, for
the tall birches and willows, crowding down to the brim, threw cool,
green shadows across it and shut out the scorching glare, while a
stray breeze now and then rippled down the wooded slopes, rustling the
beech leaves with an airy, pleasant sound.
Out in the pond the glassy water creamed and shimmered in the hot sun,
unrippled by the faintest breath of air. Across the soft, pearly tints
of the horizon blurred the smoke of the big factory chimneys that were
owned by Mr. Walters, to whom the pond and adjacent property also
belonged.
Mr. Walters was a comparative stranger in Carleton, having but
recently purchased the factories from the heirs of the previous owner;
but he had been in charge long enough to establish a reputation for
sternness and inflexibility in all his business dealings.
One or two of his employees, who had been discharged by him on what
they deemed insufficient grounds, helped to deepen the impression that
he was an unjust and arbitrary man, merciless to all offenders, and
intolerant of the slightest infringement of his cast-iron rules.
Dan Phillips had been on the pond ever since sunrise. The trout had
risen well in the early morning, but as the day wore on, growing
hotter and hotter, they refused to bite, and for half an hour Dan had
not caught one.
He had a goodly string of them already, however, and he surveyed them
with satisfaction as he rowed his leaky little skiff to the shore of
the creek.
"Pretty good catch," he soliloquized. "Best I've had this summer, so
far. That big spotted one must weigh near a pound. He's a beauty.
They're a good price over at the hotels now, too. I'll go home and
get my dinner and go straight over with them. That'll leave me time
for another try at them about sunset. Whew, how hot it is! I must take
Ella May home a bunch of them blue flags. They're real handsome!"
He tied his skiff under the crowding alders, gathered a big bunch of
the purple flag lilies with their silky petals, and started homeward,
whistling cheerily as he stepped briskly along the fern-carpeted wood
path that wound up the hill under the beeches and firs.
He was a freckled, sunburned lad of thirteen years. His neighbours all
said that Danny was "as smart as a steel trap," and immediately added
that they wondered where he got his smartness from--certainly not from
his father!
The elder Phillips had been denominated "shiftless and slack-twisted"
by all who ever had any dealings with him in his unlucky, aimless
life--one of those improvident, easygoing souls who sit contentedly
down to breakfast with a very faint idea where their dinner is to come
from.
When he had died, no one had missed him, unless it were his patient,
sad-eyed wife, who bravely faced her hard lot, and toiled
unremittingly to keep a home for her two children--Dan and a girl two
years younger, who was a helpless cripple, suffering from some form of
spinal disease.
Dan, who was old and steady for his years, had gone manfully to work
to assist his mother. Though he had been disappointed in all his
efforts to obtain steady employment, he was active and obliging, and
earned many a small amount by odd jobs around the village, and by
helping the Carleton farmers in planting and harvest.
For the last two years, however, his most profitable source of summer
income had been the trout pond. The former owner had allowed anyone
who wished to fish in his pond, and Dan made a regular business of it,
selling his trout at the big hotels over at Mosquito Lake. This, in
spite of its unattractive name, was a popular summer resort, and Dan
always found a ready market for his catch.
When Mr. Walters purchased the property it somehow never occurred to
Dan that the new owner might not be so complaisant as his predecessor
in the matter of the best trouting pond in the country.
To be sure, Dan often wondered why it was the pond was so deserted
this summer. He could not recall having seen a single person on it
save himself. Still, it did not cross his mind that there could be any
particular reason for this.
He always fished up in the cool, dim creeks, which long experience had
taught him were best for trout, and came and went by a convenient wood
path; but he had no thought of concealment in so doing. He would not
have cared had all Carleton seen him.
He had done very well with his fish so far, and prices for trout at
the Lake went up every day. Dan was an enterprising boy, and a general
favourite with the hotel owners. They knew that he could always be
depended on.
Mrs. Phillips met him at the door when he reached home.
"See, Mother," said Dan exultantly, as he held up his fish. "Just look
at that fellow, will you? A pound if he's an ounce! I ought to get a
good price for these, I can tell you. Let me have my dinner now, and
I'll go right over to the Lake with them."
"It's a long walk for you, Danny," replied his mother pityingly, "and
it's too hot to go so far. I'm afraid you'll get sun-struck or
something. You'd better wait till the cool of the evening. You're
looking real pale and thin this while back."
"Oh, I'm all right, Mother," assured Dan cheerfully. "I don't mind the
heat a bit. A fellow must put up with some inconveniences. Wait till I
bring home the money for these fish. And I mean to have another catch
tonight. It's you that's looking tired. I wish you didn't have to work
so hard, Mother. If I could only get a good place you could take it
easier. Sam French says that Mr. Walters wants a boy up there at the
factory, but I know I wouldn't do. I ain't big enough. Perhaps
something will turn up soon though. When our ship comes in, Mother,
we'll have our good times."
He picked up his flags and went into the little room where his sister
lay.
"See what I've brought you, Ella May!" he said, as he thrust the cool,
moist clusters into her thin, eager hands. "Did you ever see such
beauties?"
"Oh, Dan, how lovely they are! Thank you ever so much! If you are
going over to the Lake this afternoon, will you please call at Mrs.
Henny's and get those nutmeg geranium slips she promised me? Just look
how nice my others are growing. The pink one is going to bloom."
"I'll bring you all the geranium slips at the Lake, if you like. When
I get rich, Ella May, I'll build you a big conservatory, and I'll get
every flower in the world in it for you. You shall just live and sleep
among posies. Is dinner ready, Mother? Trouting's hungry work, I tell
you. What paper is this?"
He picked up a folded newspaper from the table.
"Oh, that's only an old Lake _Advertiser_," answered Mrs. Phillips, as
she placed the potatoes on the table and wiped her moist, hot face
with the corner of her gingham apron. "Letty Mills brought it in
around a parcel this morning. It's four weeks old, but I kept it to
read if I ever get time. It's so seldom we see a paper of any kind
nowadays. But I haven't looked at it yet. Why, Danny, what on earth is
the matter?"
For Dan, who had opened the paper and glanced over the first page,
suddenly gave a choked exclamation and turned pale, staring stupidly
at the sheet before him.
"See, Mother," he gasped, as she came up in alarm and looked over his
shoulder. This is what they read: