Then she raised her eyes to mine and smiled. In an endeavour to forget,—which, after all, was easy amid so much sunshine and beauty,—I reverted to our former conversation.
"You said you were seldom away from here. Don't you ever take a trip to Vancouver?"
"Been twice. We're not strong on trips up here. Grand-dad goes to Vancouver and Victoria once in a while. Grandmother's been here twenty years and never been five miles from the ranch, 'cept once, and she's sorry now for that once.
"Joe's the one that gets all the trips. You ain't met Joe. Guess when you do you and him won't hit it. He always fights with men of your size and build."
"Who is this Joe?" I asked. "He must be quite a man-eater."
"I ain't going to tell you any more. You'll know him when you see him.
"I'm going now. Would you like some fish? The trout were biting good this morning. I've got more'n we need."
We went down to the shore together. There were between thirty and forty beauties of sea-trout in the bottom of her boat. She handed me out a dozen.
"Guess that'll make a square meal for you and Jake."
Then she looked at me and laughed, showing her teeth. "Clean forgot," she said. "A swimming man ain't no good at carrying fish."