munitions of the sportsman, that savored of lonely canons, deer-
licks, mountain streams, quail uplands, and the still reaches of
inlet and marsh grounds, gray and cool in the early autumn dawn.

Condy and Blix got the attention of a clerk, and Condy explained.

"I want to go fishing--we want to go fishing. We want some place
where we can go and come in the same day, and we want to catch
fair-sized fish--no minnows."

The following half-hour was charming. Never was there a clerk
more delightful. It would appear that his one object in life was
that Condy and Blix should catch fish. The affairs of the nation
stood still while he pondered, suggested, advised, and
deliberated. He told them where to go, how to get there, what
train to take coming back, and who to ask for when they arrived.
They would have to wait till Monday before going, but could return
long before the fated hour of 7 P.M.

"Ask for Richardson," said the clerk; "and here, give him my card.
He'll put you on to the good spots; some places are A-1 to-day,
and to-morrow in the same place you can't kill a single fish."

Condy nudged Blix as the Mentor turned away to get his card.

"Notice that," he whispered: "KILL a fish. You don't say 'catch,'
you say 'kill'--technical detail."

Then they bought their tackle: a couple of cheap reels, lines,
leaders, sinkers, a book of assorted flies that the delightful