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Show FISHERMAN'S LUCK He knows more about fishing than any man on the pool, and talks less." Cornelia did not answer. Her thoughts were all on the tip of her own rod. About eleven o'clock a fine, drizzling rain set in. The fishing was very slack. All the other boats gave it up in despair; but Cornelia said she wanted to stay out a little longer, they might as well finish up the week. At precisely fifty minutes past eleven, Beckman reeled up his line, and remarked with firmness that the holy Sabbath day was almost at hand and they ought to go in. "Not till I 've landed this trout," said Cornelia. "What? A trout! Have you got one?" "Certainly; I 've had him on for at least fif-teen minutes. I 'm playing him Mr. Parsons' way. You might as well light the lantern and get the net ready; he 's coming in towards the boat now." Beekman broke three matches before he made the lantern burn; and when he held it up. over the gunwale, there was the trout sure enough, gleaming ghostly pale in the dark water, close to the boat, 136 A FATAL SUCCESS and quite tired out. He slipped the net over the fish and drew it in,-a monster. "I 'll carry that trout, if you please," said Cornelia, as they stepped out of the boat ; and she walked into the camp, on the last stroke of midnight, with the fish in her hand, and quietly asked for the steelyard. Eight pounds and fourteen ounces,-that was the weight. Everybody was amazed. It was the "best fish" of the year. Cornelia showed no sign of exultation, until just as John was carrying the trout to the ice-house. Then she flashed out:- "Quite a fair imitation, Mr. McTurk,-is n't it?" Now McTurk's best record for the last fifteen years was seven pounds and twelve ounces. So far as McTurk is concerned, this is the end of the story. But not for the De Peysters. I wish it were. Beekman went to sleep that night with a contented spirit. He felt that his experiment in education had been a success. He had made his wife an angler. He had indeed, and to an extent which he little 137 |