water, the gills opening and shutting. He was tired out. A third
time Blix drew him gently to the boat's side. Condy reached out
and down into the water till his very shoulder was wet, hooked two
fingers under the distended gills, and with a long, easy movement
of the arm swung him into the boat.

Their exultation was that of veritable children. Condy whooped
like an Apache, throwing his hat into the air; Blix was hardly
articulate, her hands clasped, her hair in disarray, her eyes
swimming with tears of sheer excitement. They shook each other's
hands; they talked wildly at the same time: they pounded on the
boat's thwarts with their fists; they laughed at their own
absurdity; they looked at the trout again and again, guessed at
his weight, and recalled to each other details of the struggle.

"When he broke that time, wasn't it grand?"

"And when I first felt him bite! It was so sudden--why, it
actually frightened me. I never--no, never in my life!" exclaimed
Blix, "was so happy as I am at this moment. Oh, Condy, to think--
just to THINK!"

"Isn't it glory hallelujah?"

"Isn't it better than teas, and dancing, and functions?"

"Blix--how old are we?"

"I don't care how old we are; I think that trout will weigh two
pounds."