The Adventures of a Modest Man

"I – I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed aghast; "I have hooked your trout!"

"Play him," she said quickly. The elfin shriek of the reel answered; he gave the fish every ounce the quivering rod could spare, the great trout surged deeply, swerved, circled and bored slowly upstream.

"This fish is magnificent," said Smith, guiltily. "You really must take the rod – "

"I shall not, indeed."

"But this is not fair!"

"It is perfectly fair, monsieur – and a wonderful lesson in angling to me. Oh, I beg you to be careful! There is a sunken tree limb beyond!"

Her cheeks were the colour of wild roses, her blue eyes burned like stars.

"He's down; I can't stir him," said Smith. "He's down like a salmon!"

She linked her hands behind her back. "What is to be done?" she asked calmly.

"If you would gather a handful of those pebbles and throw one at a time into the pool where he is lying – "

Before he finished speaking she had knelt, filled her palms with golden gravel, and stood ready at the water's edge.

"Now?" she nodded, inquiringly.

"Yes, one at a time; try to hit him."

The first pebble produced no effect; neither did the second, nor yet the third.

"Throw a handful at him," he suggested, and braced himself for the result. A spray of gravel fell; the great fish sulked motionless.

"There's a way – " began Smith, feeling in his pockets for his key-ring. It was not there.

"Could I be of any use?" she asked, looking up at Smith very guilelessly.

"Why, if I had something – a key-ring or anything that I could hang over the taut line – something that would slide down and jog him gently – "

"A hairpin?" she asked.

"I'm afraid it's too light."

She reflected a moment; her bent forefinger brushed her velvet lips. Then she began to unfasten a long gold pin at her throat.

"Oh, not that!" exclaimed Smith, anxiously. "It might slip off."

"It can't; there's a safety clasp. Anyway, we must have that trout!"

"But I could not permit – "

"It is I who permit myself, monsieur."

"No, no, it is too generous of you – "

"Please!" She held the pin toward him; he shook his head; she hesitated, then with a quick movement she snapped the clasp over the taut line and sent it spinning toward the invisible fish.

He saw the gold glimmer become a spark under water, die out in dusky depths; then came a rushing upheaval of spray, a flash, the rod quivered to the reel-plate, and the fight began in fury. The rod was so slim, so light – scarce three ounces – that he could but stand on the defensive at first. Little by little the struggle became give and take, then imperceptibly he forced the issue, steadily, delicately, for the tackle was gossamer, and he fought for the safety of the golden clasp as well as for his honour as an angler.

"Do you know how to net a trout?" he asked presently. She came and stood at his shoulder, net poised, blue eyes intent upon the circling fish.

"I place it behind him, do I not?" she asked coolly.

"Yes – when I give the word – "

One more swerve, a half circle sheering homeward, nearer, nearer —

A moment later the huge trout lay on the moss; iridescent tints played over its broad surface, shimmering hues deepened, waxing, warning; the spots glowed like rubies set in bronze.

Kneeling there, left hand resting on the rod, Smith looked up at her over his shoulder; but all she said was: "Ah, the poor, brave thing! The gallant fish! This is wrong – all wrong. I wish we had not taken a life we cannot give again."

"Shall I put the trout back madame?"

She looked at him surprised.

"Would you?" she asked incredulously.

"If you desire it."

"But it is your fish."

"It is yours, madame."

"Will it live? Oh, try to make it live!"

He lifted the beautiful fish in both hands, and, walking to the water's edge, laid it in the stream. For a while it floated there, gold and silver belly turned to the sky, gills slowly inflating and collapsing. Presently a fin stirred; the spasmodic movement of the gill-covers ceased, and the breathing grew quiet and steady. Smith touched the pectoral fins; the fish strove to turn over; he steadied the dorsal fin, then the caudal, righting the fish. Slowly, very slowly, the great trout moved off, farther, farther, sinking into cool, refreshing depths; there was a dull glitter under the water, a shadow gliding, then nothing except the green obscurity of the pool criss-crossed with surface sunshine.

When Smith turned around the girl was pensively regarding the water. His cap had stranded on a shoal almost at his feet; he recovered it, wrung the drops from it, and stood twirling it thoughtfully in the sunlight.

"I've ruined it, haven't I?" she asked.

"Oh, no; it's a shooting-cap. Like Tartarin, I shall probably ventilate it later in true Midi fashion."

She laughed; then, with the flushed composure of uneasiness: "Thank you for a lesson in angling. I have learned a great deal – enough at least to know that I shall not care to destroy life, even in a fish."

"That is as it should be," he replied coolly. "Men find little charm in women who kill."

"That is scarcely in accord with the English novels I read – and I read many," she said laughing.

"It is true, nevertheless. Saint Hubert save us from the woman who can watch the spark of life fade out in the eye of any living thing."

"Are you not a little eccentric, monsieur?"