Edith and her grandmother went into the house. Dunmore sat down with a stem, troubled look.
"Got s-suthin' fer you," said Strong as he held up the big fish. "C'ris'mus p-present!"
Dunmore turned to the hunter, and instantly a smile seemed to brush the shadows from his wrinkled face.
"It's your t-trout," the Emperor added. "S-see there!"
He opened the jaws of the fish and showed the encysted remnant of a black gnat.
"Bring him here," Dunmore entreated, with a look of delight.
Strong mounted the steps and put the trout in his hands.
"Sit down and tell me how and where you got him," said Dunmore.
Strong told the story of his capture, and the old gentleman was transported to that familiar place in the midst of the quick-water. The Emperor had not finished his account when the other interrupted him. Dunmore told of days, forever memorable, when he had leaned over the bank and seen his flies come hurtling up the current; of moments when he had heard the splash of the big trout and felt his line hauling; of repeated struggles which had ended in defeat. The white-haired man was in his best humor. Strong saw his opportunity.
"I w-want a favor," said he.