The steady eyes leaped angrily, but there was still no answer, and he bent to take the fish off his hook, put on a fresh minnow, turned his back and tossed it into the pool.
“Hit hain't!”
He looked up again. She surely was a pretty little thing—and more, now that she was angry.
“I should say not,” he said teasingly. “What did you say your name was?”
“What's YO' name?”
The fisherman laughed. He was just becoming accustomed to the mountain etiquette that commands a stranger to divulge himself first.
“My name's—Jack.”
“An' mine's—Jill.” She laughed now, and it was his time for surprise—where could she have heard of Jack and Jill?
His line rang suddenly.
“Jack,” she cried, “you got a bite!”