"Keep the line taut," whispered Condy, gritting his teeth. "When
he comes toward you, reel him in; an' if he pulls too hard, give
him his head."

Blix was breathing fast, her cheeks blazing, her eyes all alight.

"Oh," she gasped, "I'm so afraid I'll lose him! Oh, look at that!"
she cried, as the trout darted straight for the bottom, bending
the rod till the tip was submerged. "Condy, I'll lose him--I know
I shall; you, YOU take the rod!"

"Not for a thousand dollars! Steady, there, he's away again! Oh,
talk about SPORT!"

Yard by yard Blix reeled in until they began to see the silver
glint of the trout's flanks through the green water. She brought
him nearer. Swimming parallel with the boat, he was plainly
visible from his wide-opened mouth--the hook and fly protruding
from his lower jaw--to the red, quivering flanges of the tail.
His sides were faintly speckled, his belly white as chalk. He was
almost as long as Condy's forearm.

"Oh, he's a beauty! Oh, isn't he a beauty!" murmured Condy. "Now,
careful, careful; bring him up to the boat where I can reach him;
e-easy, Blix. If he bolts again, let him run."

Twice the trout shied from the boat's shadow, and twice, as Blix
gave him his head, the reel sang and hummed like a watch-man's
rattle. But the third time he came to the surface and turned
slowly on his side, the white belly and one red fin out of the