“Not a bit so far as I could see. You’d thought she was right here in this room,” Jack agreed enthusiastically. “But how about some eats? If you’ll get a fire going and mix up a batch of biscuits I’ll see how the trout are feeling about it.”
“Righto. You do your part and you’ll find the biscuits on the job all right.”
Jack took his favorite rod from where it hung on the wall of the room and started for a large brook which emptied into the lake a few hundred yards below the cabin. It was a favorite fishing place of his and he was almost sure of at least a fair catch. Nor was he disappointed on this occasion. He found the trout hungry and in less than a half hour twelve of the speckled beauties, none weighing less than two pounds, were strung on a notched stick.
“There, I guess that’ll be enough for supper and breakfast and to take down home to the folks,” he thought as he reeled in his line.
Just as he was about to pick up the string of fish he heard a noise just behind him and, looking up, he saw a man, standing just at the edge of the woods, staring at him. He was an evil-looking man, tall and broad shouldered, evidencing great strength. His face was covered with a course stubble of several days’ growth, and his shaggy eyebrows were drawn in what seemed to be a perpetual frown.
“Howdy, sonny. How’s the fishing?” The man evidently was striving to make his voice sound pleasant as he stepped forward.
Now Jack never did like to be called sonny and the term coming from this trampish appearing man made the hot blood rush to his face. But he quickly got his feelings under control and replied pleasantly enough.
“It’s first rate, thank you,” and held up the string for the man’s inspection.
“You shore have got some good uns. How ’bout givin’ a feller a couple fer supper?”
“You are welcome to them,” Jack replied as he took two of the fish from the stick and handed them to the man.