“Jeanne,” said Florence, “do you remember that man over at Rock Harbor lodge who was always talking about fishing?”
“Yes. Why?”
“He’s got me all excited. Let’s celebrate our wonderful luck getting that Government contract by going fishing.”
“I—” Jeanne murmured, “I only wish to sit on the rocks and dream the hours away.”
It was the next day. Several hours were at their disposal. They were anchored at Tobin’s Harbor. The Iroquois was due at sunset with a boat-load of supplies for fire-fighters. The Wanderer was to help distribute these, so for the time they were standing by.
“You would desert me?” said Florence with a laugh. “Katie will go. Won’t you, Katie?”
“Fishing?” Katie’s eyes shone. “Absolutely.”
A half hour later the two girls were on their way to the fishing grounds. Florence was in her element. For her there was nothing quite like the “living water” of old Superior. In a rowboat you are so close to it. Each dark blue wave as it lifts you, then pushes you gently forward, seems reluctant to let you go.
“The water is so blue!” she exclaimed. “Must be the copper in these rocks that makes it.”
“Yes,” said Katie.