"There may," he replied, "so long as he lives quietly in the caves and
recesses of which you speak, Yes, there may be happiness, though such as
few would envy; but, then, the hook and line"--

"Which, there is reason to apprehend, will shortly destroy the happiness
of our friend the trout," interrupted Edward, pointing down the stream.
"There is an angler on his way toward us, who will intercept him."

"He seems to care little for the sport, to judge by the pace at which he
walks," said Ellen.

"But he sees, now, that we are observing him, and is willing to prove that
he knows something of the art," replied Edward Walcott. "I should think
him well acquainted with the stream; for, hastily as he walks, he has
tried every pool and ripple where a fish usually hides. But that point
will be decided when he reaches yonder old bare oak-tree."

"And how is the old tree to decide the question?" inquired Fanshawe. "It
is a species of evidence of which I have never before heard."

"The stream has worn a hollow under its roots," answered Edward,--"a most
delicate retreat for a trout. Now, a stranger would not discover the spot;
or, if he did, the probable result of a cast would be the loss of hook and
line,--an accident that has occurred to me more than once. If, therefore,
this angler takes a fish from thence, it follows that he knows the
stream."

They observed the fisher, accordingly, as he kept his way up the bank. He
did not pause when he reached the old leafless oak, that formed with its
roots an obstruction very common in American streams; but, throwing his