For answer Pritchard heaved strongly upward upon his rod and lifted the mighty fish clear of the water. One titanic convulsion of tortured muscles, and what was to be expected happened. The leader broke a few inches from the trout's lip, and he returned splashing to his native element, swam off slowly, just under the surface, then dove deep, and was seen no more. "Oh!" cried Gay. "Why _did_ you? Why _did_ you?" She had forgotten everything but the fact that the most splendid of all trout had been lost. "Why did you?" she cried again. "Because," he said serenely and gently, smiling into her grieved and flushed face, "I wouldn't have you as the payment of a bet. I will have you as a gift or not at all." They returned to The Camp, Pritchard rowing. "I owe you your prospective dividends for the year," he said. "If they are large, I shall have to give you my note and pay as I can." She did not answer. "I think you are angry with me," he said. "I'd give more than a penny for your thoughts." "I was thinking," said she, "that you are very good at fishing, but that the art of rowing an Adirondack guide boat has been left out of you." "Truly," he said, "was that what you were thinking?" "No," she said; "I was thinking other things. I was thinking that I ought to go down on my knees and thank you for breaking the leader. You see, I'd made up my mind to keep my word. And, well, of course, it's a great escape for me. "Why? Was the prospect of marrying me so awful?" "The prospect of marrying a man who would rather lose a five-pound fish than marry me--was awful." Pritchard stopped rowing, and his laughter went abroad over the quiet lake until presently Gay's forehead smoothed and, after a prelude of dimples, she joined gayly in. When Pritchard could speak, he said: "You don't really think that, do you?" "I don't know what I think," said Gay. "I'm just horrid and cross and spoiled. Don't let's talk about it any more." "But I said," said he, "I said 'As a bet, no; but as a gift'--oh, with what rapture and delight!" "Do you mean that?" She looked him in the face with level eyes. Once more he stopped rowing. "I love you," he said, "with my whole heart and soul." "Don't," said Gay, "don't spoil a day that, for all its ups and downs, has been a good day, a day that, on the whole, I've loved--and let's hurry, please, because I stood in the water and it was icy." After that Pritchard rowed with heroic force and determination; he lacked, however, the knack which overlapping oar handles demand, and at every fifteenth or sixteenth stroke knocked a piece of "bark" from his knuckles. Smarting with pain, he smiled gently at her from time to time. "Will you guide me to-morrow?" "To-morrow," she said, "there will be enough real guides to go around." "You really are, aren't you?" he said. "What?" "Angry with me."