We shall run up Buffalo Creek into the Foothills for some trout.

It will be a little stiff, but you are fit enough now, aren't you, Barry ?" His voice was tinged with anxiety.
"Fit for anything, dad, thanks to you." "Not to me, Barry.

To yourself largely." "No," said the boy, throwing his arm round his father's shoulder, "thanks to you, dear old dad,--and to God.".