The City Man thereupon unrolled his kit, and displayed before the astonished eyes of Madame Giroux and Jean the most complete assemblage of fishing tackle ever seen in St. Placide. There were lance-wood rods of the finest stock, with delicate tips so slender that one would think they could not hold a minnow, and yet so tough that, in the hands of a skilful angler, they might draw in a salmon, though not without a long struggle. There were reels of gun-metal and oxidized silver, thin lines of the finest silk, casting-lines of gut and horse-hair, and a book of choice flies of every kind, from the modest March Brown and the plain Grey Hackle to the handsome Silver Doctor and the gaudy Jock Scott. "_Mon Dieu_, Monsieur," said Jean, "you have all that is necessary, certainly. There is not a trout in the St. Ange that will be able to resist you." "That is what I think," said the City Man, with a confident smile. "We shall catch fish to-morrow, you may be sure. And here is a little steelyard for weighing the big ones. It goes up to five pounds. We shall not take a trout bigger than that in this stream." "I think not," said Jean. "It is very seldom that so large a fish is caught. If we get one of two pounds we shall do well. In former times there were plenty of big trout, and there are some left, but it is not easy to catch them. It demands skill and patience." "If that is all," said the City Man, "we shall get them. You will see, my brave Jean. Look, for example, at this little book, a record of my achievements for the past four years. See! Stoneham, June 17th, 1895, 54 trout; June 18th, 55; June 19th, 68, of which the smallest was 8 inches in length and the largest, 16 inches. Again, Metabetchouan, Lac St. Jean, June 10th, 1896, 33 ouananiche, running from 1 to 5 pounds. Once more, Restigouche, July 5th, 1897, two salmon of 15 pounds each, one of 19 pounds, and one of 25 pounds. I could go on, but that is enough to show you that I have caught fish in my day, thousands of trout, hundreds of salmon, besides black bass innumerable, pike, too, and maskinonge, that tiger of the Canadian rivers. Yes, I claim to be an angler, a faithful disciple of the good Sir Isaac. "You smile, my rural friend? Well, to-morrow I will show you. You will take your bamboo pole, your clothes line and your fat worms, while I will take one of my light rods, a thin silk line, a delicate cast, and those flies, as many as may be necessary, and at the end of the day we shall see. Yes, we shall see, my little demigod, my Ajax of the parish. If I do not take two trout for every one of yours, and the biggest fish of the day, I will give you my best rod and my book of flies, and I will eat my boots by way of penance. What do you say? Shall we have a contest for the championship of the St. Ange?"