“Good lan' ob massy, Colonel, sah! Are we suah gwine fishin'?”
“That's what we are, Shag. Lively, boy!”
“I'se runnin', sah, dat's whut I'se doin'! I'se runnin'!” And Shag's hands fairly trembled with eagerness, while the colonel, opening a little green book, read:
“Of recreation there is none
So free as fishing is alone;
All other pastimes do no less
Than mind and body both possess;
My hand alone my work can do,
So I can fish and study too!”
“Old Isaac never wrote a truer word than that!” chuckled the colonel. “And now for a little studying.”
And presently he was beside a quiet stream.
Luck was with the colonel and Shag that day, for when they returned to The Haven the creel carried by the colored man squeaked at its willow corners, for it bore a goodly mess of fish.
“Oh, Colonel, I've been so anxious to see you!” exclaimed Viola, when the detective greeted her after he had directed Shag to take the fish to the kitchen.
“Sorry I delayed so long afield,” he answered with a gallant bow. “But the sport was too good to leave. What is it, my dear? Has anything happened?” Her face was anxious.
“Well, not exactly happened,” she answered; “but I don't know what it means. And it seems so terrible! Look. I just discovered this—or rather, it was handed to me by one of the maids a little while ago,” and she held out the postal from the library, telling of the overdue book.