"O-h, o-h, Mason, I hate to, but I’ve got to let you land him. He’s a _wh-a-le_." She spoke softly; her eyes shone. She put the line in the old sailor’s hands. "Now, now, Mason; oh, I don’t mind a little water; that’s all—right." But it was a deluge, for the great salmon floundered first against her, almost in her lap, and then into the bottom of the skiff, at her feet. Mason bent to remove the hook, and Louise, in the bow, held little Silas over to see the big fish. "Mighty purty play; weighs all o’ twenty pund; bet you a bottle." "I believe it’s a Chinook," said Alice. The sailor’s homely face glowed. He looked back to be sure the child’s view was unobstructed. "Aye, sir, it’s a Chinook, an’ big’s they make ’em. Bet you a bottle." But the wager passed again unchallenged, and having met Louise’s amused glance, Mason took up his oars abashed. Nothing but the excitement of landing that fish could have so loosened his tongue. He pulled a good stroke that brought them quickly to the shore. The wind came in long puffs from the north and the sea broke on the beach in a deliberate swell. The water was a cold blue, shading to brown in the shallows, for it was ebb-tide. They drew up to the float between the wharves and Mason steadied the boat while Alice lifted the baby out and, giving him to his mother, stopped to take a great bunch of flowering rhododendrons from high in the bow. Then he raised the salmon by the gills and stumped proudly ahead up the walk. Alice looked at her sister and smiled. "There’s a watch-dog you can trust," she said. "Yes, I mean it. He has a big, warm heart underneath, and little Si knows it, already." "I think you are right," admitted Louise, "but it is strange it should have taken you hardly twenty-four hours to find it, while I have been months getting within speaking distance." "I suppose," said Alice thoughtfully, "it’s a way I have of wanting to utilize the material at hand. There’s something, too, in meeting a man on his own ground. When you want to reach a sailor," and she laughed softly, "take a boat. Oh, Mason," she called, for he had made the turn up the branch walk to the house, "wait. Come around and weigh the salmon at the store." She led the way, and the gloomy building seemed to gather a sudden radiance when she entered the door. Her face reflected a soft illumination from the showy pink flowers heaped in her arm. Forrest stepped down from his stool at the desk, and came outside the railing to meet her. Then, "What’s that, Mason?" he asked. "You don’t mean to tell me she really did catch a fish." "Aye, sir,"—Mason stopped to put the salmon on the scales,—"twenty-two pund." "That’s so," said Forrest incredulously, "twenty-two and a quarter; well, for a Chinook that’s a prize."