The San Francisco call., 1905-03-14
X Fishing x
BY KEITH GORDON.
M FHEN the young man at last
M ! reluctantly furled his lines
Wv about the long poles and

M. FHEN the young man at last
M reluctantly furled his lines
w about the long poles and
slowed them away as best he
might in the covered buggy that he
/ had procured in the village, the
shadows were already long and PEN
sive.
/ When he reached the village the
hush of early twilight lay on the
broad, decorous streets, which were
almost deserted. Their very empti-
ness. however. was full of suggestive
cheer. Pictures of broad. low rooms
with bountifully spread supper tables,
or which feathery biscuit cold
chicken and preserves made tempt
/ ing array, rose before his dreamy
eyes; cheerful. natural faces loomed
in the thick. red light of old-fashion-
ed lamps; the rag carpets, rocking
chairs and secretaries-all the details
of the rural household scene were
vividly, pleasurably before him.
Behind him, the long poles dipped
with rhythmical, monotonous motion
as the horse logged evenly along. At
the crossing of two streets the slight,
graceful figure of a girl paused for
him to pass. In the shadowy light she
seemed like a spirit-the spirit of the
advancing night.
Thus sunk, lost, wrapped in revery
he drove on, the poles waving up and
down behind him like long. hungry
teEtacles, exploring the evening air
for something to catch and hold. A
i(,lf HI fha r0l1
ed over the crossing with an energy
that sent the poles dipping lower than
ever, and then the tentacles hooked
something-hooked it tight, and after
a brief resistance on the part of the
hooked thing, which manifested
strong inclination TO remain where it
was-lifted it high in triumph and
maliciously disappeared down the
dUsky street, leaving a paralyZed,
shadowy shape staring after it with
estounded eyes.
For a moment the girl stood speech
less. bewildered. To have her hat sud
denly plucked from her head, as If by
hand thrust from the sky, in a
sleepy little village of the new world
well, it was an experience that stopped
her mental machinery with a jerk.
Had it been in Greece In the year
something or other B. c., it would
have been explicable, as the deed Of
some goddess, jealous and angered at
the beauty of her love of a hat Jeal-
Gus goddesses, she recalled, had done
even more extraordinary things than
snatching a mortaPs hati
Or had it been later, in medieval
times, she might have ascribed this
hat-lifting to black magic. But in
the u S. A in the year of 1905
neither of these explanations could
hold. and that was the reason she
stood as If she had taken root, while
these thoughts shot rapidly through
her mind.
Meanwhile her hat, dancing up and
down in a tantalizing, diabolical fash
ion, as If to wave her a mocking fare
well, was being borne, slowly but in
exorably, into the, cleaning. Before
she recovered the power Of speech and
motion the buggy was half way down
the block. She made a step after 1t,
then stopped. She had a sharp, hu-
morous vision of herself, hatless and
disheveled, pursuing that dancing,
mocking, bobbing will-o'-the-wisp of
q hat through the village streets MAX
ing frantic, Intellectual jumps at it, as
dog at a biscuit held just beyond
its reach, and the vision caused her
to pause.
Here! Oh, / say, stop, won't your
she called imploringly, but the quad
ruped drawing the buggy proceeded,
with a dexterity that reminded her
of the juggler who keeps four balls
in the air at the same time, while the
fall of its hoofs came to her in a more
and more distant cadence.