"Keep quiet, now," admonished Mandy. "Don't shout so. Tell me quietly
what to do."

"Do as you like. You can handle him. Just watch and wait--feel him all
the time. Ah-h-h! For Heaven's sake don't let him into that jam! There
he goes up stream! That's better! Good!"

"Don't get so excited! Don't yell so!" again admonished Mandy. "Tell me
quietly."

"Quietly? Who's yelling, I'd like to know? Who's excited? I won't say
another word. I'll get the landing-net ready for the final act."

"Don't leave me! Tell me just what to do. He's getting tired, I think."

"Watch him close. Wind him up a bit. Get all the line in you can.
Steady! Let go! Let go! Let him run! Now wind him again. Wait, hold him
so, just a moment--a little nearer! Hurrah! Hurrah! I've got him and
he's a beauty--a perfectly typical Rainbow trout."

"Oh, you beauty!" cried Mandy, down on her knees beside the trout that
lay flapping on the grass. "What a shame! Oh, what a shame! Oh, put him
in again, Allan, I don't want him. Poor dear, what a shame."

"But we must weigh him, you see," remonstrated her husband. "And we need
him for tea, you know. He really doesn't feel it much. There are lots
more. Try another cast. I'll attend to this chap."

"I feel just like a murderer," said Mandy. "But isn't it glorious? Well,
I'll just try one more. Aren't you going to get your rod out too?"