Openings in the Old Trail | Page 9

of such rude sportsmen as miners, or even experts like himself. Few
had seen it, except as a vague, shadowy bulk in the four feet of depth
and gloom in which it hid; only once had Leonidas's quick eye feasted
on its fair proportions. On that memorable occasion Leonidas, having
exhausted every kind of lure of painted fly and living bait, was rising
from his knees behind the bank, when a pink five-cent stamp dislodged
from his pocket fluttered in the air, and descended slowly upon the still
pool. Horrified at his loss, Leonidas leaned over to recover it, when
there was a flash like lightning in the black depths, a dozen changes of
light and shadow on the surface, a little whirling wave splashing
against the side of the rock, and the postage stamp was gone. More than
that--for one instant the trout remained visible, stationary and expectant!
Whether it was the instinct of sport, or whether the fish had detected a
new, subtle, and original flavor in the gum and paper, Leonidas never
knew. Alas! he had not another stamp; he was obliged to leave the fish,
but carried a brilliant idea away with him. Ever since then he had
cherished it--and another extra stamp in his pocket. And now, with this
strong but gossamer-like snell, this new hook, and this freshly cut
hickory rod, he would make the trial!
But fate was against him! He had scarcely descended the narrow trail to
the pine-fringed margin of the stream before his quick ear detected an
unusual rustling through the adjacent underbrush, and then a voice that
startled him! It was HERS! In an instant all thought of sport had fled.
With a beating heart, half opened lips, and uplifted lashes, Leonidas
awaited the coming of his divinity like a timorous virgin at her first
tryst.
But Mrs. Burroughs was clearly not in an equally responsive mood.
With her fair face reddened by the sun, the damp tendrils of her
unwound hair clinging to her forehead, and her smart little slippers red
with dust, there was also a querulous light in her eyes, and a still more
querulous pinch in her nostrils, as she stood panting before him.

"You tiresome boy!" she gasped, holding one little hand to her side as
she gripped her brambled skirt around her ankles with the other. "Why
didn't you wait? Why did you make me run all this distance after you?"
Leonidas timidly and poignantly protested. He had waited before the
house and on the hill; he thought she didn't want him.
"Couldn't you see that THAT MAN kept me in?" she went on peevishiy.
"Haven't you sense enough to know that he suspects something, and
follows me everywhere, dogging my footsteps every time the post
comes in, and even going to the post-office himself, to make sure that
he sees all my letters? Well," she added impatiently, "have you
anything for me? Why don't you speak?"
Crushed and remorseful, Leonidas produced her letter. She almost
snatched it from his hand, opened it, read a few lines, and her face
changed. A smile strayed from her eyes to her lips, and back again.
Leonidas's heart was lifted; she was so forgiving and so beautiful!
"Is he a boy, Mrs. Burroughs?" asked Leonidas shyly.
"Well--not exactly," she said, her charming face all radiant again. "He's
older than you. What has he written to you?"
Leonidas put his letter in her hand for reply.
"I wish I could see him, you know," he said shyly. "That letter's
bully--it's just rats! I like him pow'ful."
Mrs. Burroughs had skimmed through the letter, but not interestedly.
"You mustn't like him more than you like me," she said laughingly,
caressing him with her voice and eyes, and even her straying hand.
"I couldn't do that! I never could like anybody as I like you," said.
Leonidas gravely. There was such appalling truthfulness in the boy's
voice and frankly opened eyes that the woman could not evade it, and
was slightly disconcerted. But she presently started up with a vexatious

cry. "There's that wretch following me again, I do believe," she said,
staring at the hilltop. "Yes! Look, Leon, he's turning to come down this
trail. What's to be done? He mustn't see me here!"
Leonidas looked. It was indeed Mr. Burroughs; but he was evidently
only taking a short cut towards the Ridge, where his men were working.
Leonidas had seen him take it before. But it was the principal trail on
the steep hillside, and they must eventually meet. A man might evade it
by scrambling through the brush to a lower and rougher trail; but a
woman, never! But an idea had seized Leonidas. "I can stop him," he
said confidently to her. "You just lie low here