"I'll pay."
"But I—I can't afford to lose money this way."
"Shouldn't have played, then. I took the same chances as you. Condy, I want my money."
"You—you—why you've regularly flimflammed me."
"Will you give me my money?"
"Oh, take your money then!"
Blix shut the money in her purse, and rose, dusting her dress.
"Now," she said—"now that the pastime of card-playing is over, we will return to the serious business of life, which is the catching—no, 'KILLING' of lake trout."
At five o'clock in the afternoon, Condy pulled up the anchor of railroad iron and rowed back to Richardson's. Blix had six trout to her credit, but Condy's ill-luck had been actually ludicrous.
"I can hold a string in the water as long as anybody," he complained, "but I'd like to have the satisfaction of merely changing the bait OCCASIONALLY. I've not had a single bite—not a nibble, y' know, all day. Never mind, you got the big trout, Blix; that first one. That five minutes was worth the whole day. It's been glorious, the whole thing. We'll come down here once a week right along now."