"I don't believe that there are any fish," said Preston.
"Oh, but Sam said he saw lots of them."
"Lots of them! It's the flies then. Sam! Hollo, Sam! Sam! "
"Here, sir," said Sam, coming up the brook.
"Just find me some worms, will you? and be spry. I can't get a bite."
Daisy sat down to look about her, while Preston drew in his line and threw the fly away. It was a pretty place! The brook spread just there into a round pool several feet across; deep and still; and above it the great trees towered up as if they would hide the sun. Sam came presently with the bait. Preston dressed his hook, and gave his line a swing, to cast the bait into the pool; rather incautiously, seeing that the trees stood so thick and so near. Accordingly the line lodged in the high branches of an oak on the opposite side of the pool. Neither was there any coaxing it down.
"What a pity!" said Daisy.
"Not at all," said Preston. "Here, Sam just go up that tree and clear the line will you?"
Sam looked at the straight high stem of the oak, which had shot up high before it put forth a single branch, and he did not like the job. His slow motions said so.
"Come!" said Preston, "be alive and do it quick, will you."