"Down in this hole, right before us, there's more than a million grayling--there's four hundred billion of them right down in there, and every one of them is eight feet long! Sim Gage was right--I'll bet some of them do weigh three pounds.

It must be right in the height of the summer run.

What a wonderful country!" "Here, now," he went on, "sit right here on the grass on my coat.

Lie down, you Tim! That's right, boy--I can't stand this any longer--I've got to get busy." Hurriedly he went about jointing his rod, putting on the reel, threading the line through the guides, while she sat, her hand on the dog's shaggy head.
She felt something placed in her lap.

"That's my fly hook," said he.
"I'm asking you to look at it.