"Oh, girls, let's stay here the rest of the fall. Let's not walk any
more," begged Margery.
"Oh, thee the fithh jump!" cried Tommy, pointing to the pond.
"Trout, too. If I only had a rod and line!" exclaimed Harriet.
"You shall have them, darlin'," answered Jane. "If you want anything you
don't see, just ask for it. You'll find the whole fisherman's outfit
strapped under the car--under the left mudguard. What about bait?"
"I think the trout will take flies. That is what they are jumping for,"
replied Harriet. "Where will I find the flies?"
"In the box under the rear seat."
"Thay, Harriet!" piped Tommy.
"Yes?"
"Catch me an oythter for breakfatht."
Harriet paused from jointing Jane's rod long enough to join in the
merriment at Tommy's expense.
"Have you a dusty miller, Jane?" she asked, glancing up with flushed
face.
"I don't know whether or not he's dusty, but there's an insect in there
that they call a miller. Dad says it's a killer. I never saw it show its
teeth. It's my opinion that it would be a fool fish that would bite a
thing like that."
"You wait and see," chuckled Harriet, fixing the leader of the fly to
the silk line, then balancing the rod by its butt, swinging the line
this way and that through the air to see how the reel worked.
"It will be too late by the time you get ready to fish," reminded Miss
Elting.
"It isn't sunset yet, Miss Elting. There should be good fishing for half
an hour yet."
"Well, are you going to fish, or are you going to talk all the time
during that half hour?" demanded Margery.
For answer Harriet swung the pole above her head. With a swish the dusty
miller described a long curve in the air, then dived for the water,
which it took with the faintest possible disturbance.
There followed a swish and a splash. The rod bent until it seemed to the
spectators as though it would break under the strain. A flashing,
scintillating body jumped through the air, then plunged down deep into
the clear waters of the pond.
"A fithh! A fithh!" screamed Tommy. "Harriet hath got a fithh. Oh,
goodie, goodie, goodie!"
"Pull him in. You'll lose him!" shouted Margery.
"Now will you look at our Harriet?" cried Crazy Jane, hugging herself
gleefully, swaying her body from side to side in the ecstasy of her
delight.
The trout that Harriet Burrell had hooked was a lively fish. It was
darting and diving with wonderful strength and quickness. The line cut
the water with a swish, swish, swish that was plainly heard by all.
"Get it, Harriet! Oh, do get it," begged Hazel, in an agony of
apprehension lest the trout succeed in freeing itself.
"The real fun of catching a fish is 'playing' it, just as Harriet is
doing," answered Miss Elting.
Tommy had run out on one of the beams of the old mill race, where she
was dancing up and down at the imminent risk of a ducking.
"Now, look out, girls," warned Harriet. "I'm going to try to land him."
There was a lively scurrying on the part of the girls. The trout came up
protesting and fighting every inch of the way. Then Harriet, having
reeled in the line, pulled the trout in toward the bank.
Unfortunately for Harriet, but fortunately for the fish, Tommy Thompson
was in the way. The trout slapped her squarely in the face ere Harriet
had discovered her companion's location. There was a shrill scream from
Tommy, a light splash as the trout dropped into the pond, then a mighty
splash as Tommy, losing her balance, went sprawling into the cold water.
"Oh, I have lost my fish!" wailed Harriet.
"Catch Tommy!" yelled Margery.
Harriet threw down her rod and ran out on the beam where Tommy had been
standing before the disaster. Tommy was splashing and coughing, making
frantic efforts to reach shore. Harriet knew the little blonde girl
could swim, else she would have gone in after her. But Tommy wished to
attract all the sympathy and attention of her companions in her
direction, so she kept up a continuous screaming. Harriet reached down
and gave her a hand.
"How's the water, Tommy?" questioned Harriet, mischievously.
"Co-o-o-old," chattered Tommy. "I'm fr-r-r-r-eezing. What did you knock
me in for?"
"Why, I didn't realize that you were standing there. Why did you make me
lose my fish?"
"There, there, girls! Tommy go into the tent at once and take off your
wet clothing. Put on dry clothes unless you wish to go to bed now."
"I don't want to go to bed, I want to watch Harriet catch fithh."
"Oh, you've scared them all out of the pond," complained Margery.
"I hope you fall in, too, Buthter," was Tommy's parting salute, as she
ran shivering to the tent. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged clad in
dry clothing and apparently none the worse for her recent wetting.
In the meantime Harriet had returned to her fishing, laughing softly
over her companion's mishap and their argument following the plunge.
There were screams of delight when finally she landed a trout. Nor did
she stop until the sun dipped behind the western hills and the speckled
beauties went down into the depths of the stream, or skulked under the
edge of its banks for the night. The result of the fishing was a dozen
fine trout, the smallest weighing only a little under a half pound and
the largest weighing nearly two pounds, according to the guardian's
estimate.
Harriet insisted on dressing the fish that night, something she knew
better how to do than did any of her companions. The fish were then put
in a pail, the cover tightly fitted and the pail hung in the old mill
race, where the cold water would flow over the receptacle all night
long.
"There," exclaimed Harriet after her work was finished. "We shall have a
breakfast fit for a king. Now I'm going in bathing. I am so covered with
dust and grime that I'm ashamed of myself. Come, girls, aren't you going
in with me?"
"What! Go into that ice cold water?" demanded Margery. "No, thank you.
I'll heat some water and take my bath in the tent."
"I will go in with you, Harriet," offered Hazel.
"So will I," added the guardian. "Come, let's get ready before the air
gets colder. Tommy already has had her bath."
Had they not been inured to cold water and exposure, the experiment
might have been followed by severe colds if nothing worse. But the
Meadow-Brook Girls were well seasoned from living out of doors for the
greater part of the summer and from bathing in the cold stream at Camp
Wau-Wau. The first plunge into the pond brought gasps and shivers, then
they splashed about in the water, swimming across the pond and back,
again and again, while Margery stood on the bank shivering out of pure
sympathy for them.
"That is what I call great," cried Harriet, rising dripping to the bank
after Miss Elting had called to the two girls to come out of the water.
"I could almost eat another meal after that bath."
"Tho could I," piped Tommy, thrusting her head out from the tent flap.
The two girls and the guardian ran laughing to the tent, where, greatly
refreshed by their cold plunge, they changed their wet bathing suits for
dry clothing.
Now fresh fuel was piled on the camp fire. The flames blazed high and
the smoke curled skyward in the still, clear evening air. Harriet and
Hazel were capering about the fire, holding an impromptu war dance.
Tommy was standing near one corner of the tent watching the performance,
when, thinking she had heard a sound behind her, she turned
apprehensively.
For one horrified moment Tommy Thompson gazed, then with a yell of
terror sprang for the tent.
"Thave me! Oh, thave me!" she screamed.
"What is it?" cried Harriet and Miss Elting, rushing toward her. Then
they, too, halted, gazing into the deepening shadows that enveloped the
rear of the tent. Margery had caught sight of the object that had sent
Tommy into an agony of terror. Margery had thrown herself headlong into
the tent screaming wildly. Hazel, Miss Elting and Harriet stood their
ground.