"C-cast yer _f-flies_," Strong suggested, and his emphasis clearly indicated that the fisherman should cease casting his body. Again the _nouveau_ worked his rod, whipping its point to the water fore and aft. Flies and leader clawed over the back of Silas Strong, fetching his hat off. Before he could recover, the young man went into action. Strong ducked in time to save an ear, splashing his paddle again to keep the canoe on its bottom. The tail-fly had caught above his elbow. When Strong tried to loosen its hold the young man was tugging at the line. Strong endeavored to speak, but somehow the words wouldn't come. Suddenly the other rod came back with a powerful swing and smote him on the top of his head. He had been trying to say "See here," but his tongue had halted on the s. Then he took a new tack, as it were, and tried a phrase which began with the letter g, and had fair success with it. Both Migleys gave a start of surprise. The Emperor waited to recover self-control and felt a touch of remorse. "Le' me c-climb a t-tree," he suggested, presently. The elder Migley burst into loud laughter. "Stop fooling!" said the young man. "I'd like to get some fish." He swung his rod, and was again tugging at the shirt-sleeve of the Emperor. Strong blew as he clung to the leader. "C-cast c-crossways," he commanded, with a gesture. The fishermen rested a moment. A hundred feet or so below them Strong saw a squirrel crossing the still water. Suddenly there was a movement behind him, and he sank out of sight. In half a moment he rose again, swimming with frantic haste to reach a clump of alder branches. Strong knew the mysterious villain of this little drama of the river, but said not a word of what he had seen. The "sports" resumed fishing with less confidence and more care. Soon they were able to reach off twenty feet or so, but they raked the air with deadly violence, and every moment one leader was laying hold of the other or catching in a tree-top. Strong pulled down bough after bough to free the flies. Presently they were caught high in a balsam. "Take us where there's trout. What do you think we're fishing for, anyway?" said young Migley. "B-birds," Strong answered, as he continued hauling at the tree-top with hand and paddle. He used language always for the simple purpose of expressing his thoughts. Soon the elder Migley began to feel the need of information. He passed his rod to the Emperor. "Show me how ye do it," said he. Strong paddled to a large, flat rock which rose, mid-stream, a little above water. He climbed upon it and sat down lazily.