"Why, what is that for?" stammered she.
"Didn't you say 'yes, yes, yes?'"
"Yes."
"Well, that meant fish, horse and man, and I'm the man."
"Mr. Wagner—Cal—let me go. My! the people are all watching us."
"Never mind, show them your hand. Just two pounds and a quarter," said Cal, as he adjusted the scales, "the biggest one this season so far."
"Yes, a fish, a horse and a man—quite a catch for one day," laughingly said Miss Asquith.
"The details of that catch are duly recorded in the hotel register and never will be duplicated," said Cal at dinner, as the party made merry and toasted the future ranch owner, who blushed rosy as a girl of sixteen, while Cal was as brim full of joy as a lad with a new pair of red top boots and sled to match. The following telegram fairly burned the wires:
"Stoddersmith, Boston. Caught a trout, a horse and a man with a six ounce rod. Trip to India postponed. Resign position today.
Miss Asquith."