he was guided slowly in to the bank. Behind him the landing-net
was gently let into the water--then a quick forward movement, and a
fourteen-pounder was scooped up and flung upon the bank, landing-net
and all. "Hurrah!" cried Ingram, and Lavender blushed like a
school-girl; and Sheila, quite naturally and without thinking, shook
hands with him and said, "I congratulate you;" and there was more
congratulation in her glad eyes than in that simple little gesture.

It was a good beginning, and of course the young man was very much
pleased to show Sheila that he was no mere lily-fingered idler about
town. He buckled to his work in earnest. With a few more casts he soon
got into the way of managing the big rod; and every time the flies
fell lightly on the other side of the pool, to be dragged with gentle
jerks across the foaming current of the stream. Ingram went back to
his couch on the rock. He lay and watched the monotonous flinging
back of the long rod, the light whistle of the line through the air,
and the careful manipulation of the flies through the water. Or was
it something else that he was watching--something that awakened in
his mind a sudden sense of surprise and fear, and a new and strange
consciousness that he had been guiltily remiss?

Sheila was wholly preoccupied with her companion and his efforts. He
had had one or two rises, but had struck either too soon or too late,
until at last there was a terrific plunge and rush, and again the line
was whirled out. But Duncan did not like the look of it, somehow. The
fish had been sheering off when it was hooked, and the deep plunge at
the outset was ugly.

"Now will you take the rod?" said Lavender to Sheila.