Chapter V: Catching the Speckled Beauties

"Oh, girls, let's stay here the rest of the fall. Let's not walk any more," begged Margery.

"Oh, thee the fithh jump!" cried Tommy, pointing to the pond.

"Trout, too. If I only had a rod and line!" exclaimed Harriet.

"You shall have them, darlin'," answered Jane. "If you want anything you don't see, just ask for it. You'll find the whole fisherman's outfit strapped under the car--under the left mudguard. What about bait?"

"I think the trout will take flies. That is what they are jumping for," replied Harriet. "Where will I find the flies?"

"In the box under the rear seat."

"Thay, Harriet!" piped Tommy.

"Yes?"

"Catch me an oythter for breakfatht."

Harriet paused from jointing Jane's rod long enough to join in the merriment at Tommy's expense.

"Have you a dusty miller, Jane?" she asked, glancing up with flushed face.

"I don't know whether or not he's dusty, but there's an insect in there that they call a miller. Dad says it's a killer. I never saw it show its teeth. It's my opinion that it would be a fool fish that would bite a thing like that."

"You wait and see," chuckled Harriet, fixing the leader of the fly to the silk line, then balancing the rod by its butt, swinging the line this way and that through the air to see how the reel worked.

"It will be too late by the time you get ready to fish," reminded Miss Elting.

"It isn't sunset yet, Miss Elting. There should be good fishing for half an hour yet."

"Well, are you going to fish, or are you going to talk all the time during that half hour?" demanded Margery.

For answer Harriet swung the pole above her head. With a swish the dusty miller described a long curve in the air, then dived for the water, which it took with the faintest possible disturbance.

There followed a swish and a splash. The rod bent until it seemed to the spectators as though it would break under the strain. A flashing, scintillating body jumped through the air, then plunged down deep into the clear waters of the pond.

"A fithh! A fithh!" screamed Tommy. "Harriet hath got a fithh. Oh, goodie, goodie, goodie!"

"Pull him in. You'll lose him!" shouted Margery.

"Now will you look at our Harriet?" cried Crazy Jane, hugging herself gleefully, swaying her body from side to side in the ecstasy of her delight.

The trout that Harriet Burrell had hooked was a lively fish. It was darting and diving with wonderful strength and quickness. The line cut the water with a swish, swish, swish that was plainly heard by all.

"Get it, Harriet! Oh, do get it," begged Hazel, in an agony of apprehension lest the trout succeed in freeing itself.

"The real fun of catching a fish is 'playing' it, just as Harriet is doing," answered Miss Elting.

Tommy had run out on one of the beams of the old mill race, where she was dancing up and down at the imminent risk of a ducking.

"Now, look out, girls," warned Harriet. "I'm going to try to land him." There was a lively scurrying on the part of the girls. The trout came up protesting and fighting every inch of the way. Then Harriet, having reeled in the line, pulled the trout in toward the bank.

Unfortunately for Harriet, but fortunately for the fish, Tommy Thompson was in the way. The trout slapped her squarely in the face ere Harriet had discovered her companion's location. There was a shrill scream from Tommy, a light splash as the trout dropped into the pond, then a mighty splash as Tommy, losing her balance, went sprawling into the cold water.

"Oh, I have lost my fish!" wailed Harriet.

"Catch Tommy!" yelled Margery.

Harriet threw down her rod and ran out on the beam where Tommy had been standing before the disaster. Tommy was splashing and coughing, making frantic efforts to reach shore. Harriet knew the little blonde girl could swim, else she would have gone in after her. But Tommy wished to attract all the sympathy and attention of her companions in her direction, so she kept up a continuous screaming. Harriet reached down and gave her a hand.

"How's the water, Tommy?" questioned Harriet, mischievously.

"Co-o-o-old," chattered Tommy. "I'm fr-r-r-r-eezing. What did you knock me in for?"

"Why, I didn't realize that you were standing there. Why did you make me lose my fish?"

"There, there, girls! Tommy go into the tent at once and take off your wet clothing. Put on dry clothes unless you wish to go to bed now."

"I don't want to go to bed, I want to watch Harriet catch fithh."

"Oh, you've scared them all out of the pond," complained Margery.

"I hope you fall in, too, Buthter," was Tommy's parting salute, as she ran shivering to the tent. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged clad in dry clothing and apparently none the worse for her recent wetting.

In the meantime Harriet had returned to her fishing, laughing softly over her companion's mishap and their argument following the plunge. There were screams of delight when finally she landed a trout. Nor did she stop until the sun dipped behind the western hills and the speckled beauties went down into the depths of the stream, or skulked under the edge of its banks for the night. The result of the fishing was a dozen fine trout, the smallest weighing only a little under a half pound and the largest weighing nearly two pounds, according to the guardian's estimate.

Harriet insisted on dressing the fish that night, something she knew better how to do than did any of her companions. The fish were then put in a pail, the cover tightly fitted and the pail hung in the old mill race, where the cold water would flow over the receptacle all night long.

"There," exclaimed Harriet after her work was finished. "We shall have a breakfast fit for a king. Now I'm going in bathing. I am so covered with dust and grime that I'm ashamed of myself. Come, girls, aren't you going in with me?"

"What! Go into that ice cold water?" demanded Margery. "No, thank you. I'll heat some water and take my bath in the tent."

"I will go in with you, Harriet," offered Hazel.

"So will I," added the guardian. "Come, let's get ready before the air gets colder. Tommy already has had her bath."

Had they not been inured to cold water and exposure, the experiment might have been followed by severe colds if nothing worse. But the Meadow-Brook Girls were well seasoned from living out of doors for the greater part of the summer and from bathing in the cold stream at Camp Wau-Wau. The first plunge into the pond brought gasps and shivers, then they splashed about in the water, swimming across the pond and back, again and again, while Margery stood on the bank shivering out of pure sympathy for them.

"That is what I call great," cried Harriet, rising dripping to the bank after Miss Elting had called to the two girls to come out of the water. "I could almost eat another meal after that bath."

"Tho could I," piped Tommy, thrusting her head out from the tent flap.

The two girls and the guardian ran laughing to the tent, where, greatly refreshed by their cold plunge, they changed their wet bathing suits for dry clothing.

Now fresh fuel was piled on the camp fire. The flames blazed high and the smoke curled skyward in the still, clear evening air. Harriet and Hazel were capering about the fire, holding an impromptu war dance. Tommy was standing near one corner of the tent watching the performance, when, thinking she had heard a sound behind her, she turned apprehensively.

For one horrified moment Tommy Thompson gazed, then with a yell of terror sprang for the tent.

"Thave me! Oh, thave me!" she screamed.

"What is it?" cried Harriet and Miss Elting, rushing toward her. Then they, too, halted, gazing into the deepening shadows that enveloped the rear of the tent. Margery had caught sight of the object that had sent Tommy into an agony of terror. Margery had thrown herself headlong into the tent screaming wildly. Hazel, Miss Elting and Harriet stood their ground.