The intense blue of the sky had altered since noon; the west became

gradually duller and the air stiller; and now, over the Gayfield

hills, a tall cloud thrust up silvery-edged convolutions toward a

zenith still royally and magnificently blue.

* * * * *

She had been sitting there watching her swimming cork for over an hour

when the first light western breeze arrived, spreading a dainty ripple

across the pond. Her cork danced, drifted; beneath it she caught the

momentary glimmer of the minnow; then the cork was jerked under; she

clasped the pole with all her strength, struck upward; and a heavy

pickerel, all gold and green, sprang furiously from the water and fell

back with a sharp splash.

Under the sudden strain of the fish she nearly lost her balance,

scrambled hastily down from the parapet, propping the pole desperately

against her body, and stood so, unbending, unyielding, her eyes fixed

on the water where the taut line cut it at forty-five degrees.

At the same time two men in a red runabout speeding westward caught

sight of the sharp turn by the bridge which the ruins of the paper

mill had hidden. The man driving the car might have made it even then

had he not seen Ruhannah in the centre of the bridge. It was instantly

all off; so were both mud-guards and one wheel. So were driver and

passenger, floundering on their backs among the rank grass and wild

flowers. Ruhannah, petrified, still fast to her fish, gazed at the

catastrophe over her right shoulder.

A broad, short, squarely built man of forty emerged from the weeds,

went hastily to the car and did something to it. Noise ceased; clouds

of steam continued to ascend from the crumpled hood.

The other man, even shorter, but slimmer, sauntered out of a bed of

milkweed whither he had been catapulted. He dusted with his elbow a

grey felt hat as he stood looking at the wrecked runabout; his

comrade, still clutching a cigar between his teeth, continued to

examine the car.

"Hell!" remarked the short, thickset man.

"It's going to rain like it, too," added the other. The thunder boomed

again beyond Gayfield hills.

"What do you know about this!" growled the thickset man, in utter

disgust. "Do we hunt for a garage, or what?"

"It's up to you, Eddie. And say! What was the matter with you? Don't

you know a bridge when you see one?"

"That damn girl----" He turned and looked at Ruhannah, who was

dragging the big flapping pickerel over the parapet by main strength.




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