clerk suggested, and a beautiful little tin box painted green, and
stenciled with a gorgeous gold trout upon the lid, in which they
were to keep the pint of salted shrimps to be used as bait in
addition to the flies. Blix would get these shrimps at a little
market near her home.

"But," said the clerk, "you got to get a permit to fish in that
lake. Have you got a pull with the Water Company? Are you a
stockholder?"

Condy's face fell, and Blix gave a little gasp of dismay. They
looked at each other. Here was a check, indeed.

"Well," said the sublime being in shirt sleeves from behind the
counter, "see what you can do; and if you can't make it, come back
here an' lemmeno, and we'll fix you up in some other place. But
Lake San Andreas has been bang-up this last week--been some great
kills there; hope to the deuce you can make it."

Everything now hinged upon this permit. It was not until their
expedition had been in doubt that Condy and Blix realized how
alluring had been its prospects.

"Oh, I guess you can get a permit," said the clerk soothingly.
"An' if you make any good kills, lemmeno and I'll put it in the
paper. I'm the editor of the 'Sport-with-Gun-and-Rod' column in
'The Press,'" he added with a flush of pride.

Toward the middle of the afternoon Blix, who was waiting at home,
in great suspense, for that very purpose, received another