Youth is the time of life when perils, sorrows and battles are soon forgotten; when joy persists, and the anticipation of some fresh thrill is ever uppermost in the mind. As they started on the proposed fishing trip rather late that afternoon, Tillie, to all appearances, had forgotten her battle with the children of a rich city gambler. The splendid black bass they had captured, the memory of the thrill of the chase, was still with her.
“Do you know,” she said to Florence, “I think the other two bass are larger, much larger? Perhaps one is a five pounder.
“We are going to have a grand time!” she enthused. “There are two big muskies lurking in those weeds. I saw them once. They may strike to-day.”
“You don’t think those hateful people will come back?” Florence wrinkled her brow.
“Guess we gave ’em enough!” Tillie clipped her words short.
“You said they’d ruin you.”
“Mebby they can’t.” Tillie’s strong arms worked fast at the oars.
They arrived at the fishing hole. Once more the conditions were ideal. Dark, slaty clouds lay spread across the sky. A slight breeze roughened the surface of the water. Such water as it was! Gray, shadowy water that suggested fish of immense proportions and infinite fighting power.
The whispering rushes, the gurgling water, the bobbing dragon fly, were all there.
“As if we had been gone but an hour,” Florence said, as she dropped the anchor.