El Paso herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1901-1931, 1911-01-03


~ heart are but awkward posses
4 sessions with which to go
a-fishing.
Lord Alan Robertson. otherwise Ally.
sought to quiet the one ard heal the
other during the long ride in the eorri-
dor smoker. as he rushed down into
the lake district.
And yet. in spite OF the hot haste
with which he had commanded his
goods to be packed on the previous
aight, somehow, as the train swung
do his will, the grievance dwindled,
and, in short. grew less and less ade-
To actually break with Dolly. be-
cause
Yet fishing was a manly sport. He
would maintain that with his dying
breath And Dolly had no business
whatever to so presume on their reIa-
tionship as to toss her head and pout
her red lips tauntingiy, as she re-
marked:
obviously Afford Alan Robertson.
you care less for me than for a slippery
July trout"
And then the rank impudence OF
the courtesy as her frock swept the
daisies.
She had been grossly unfair That
was the straightforward English truth
The nuisance. OF course, was that
the best fishing was to be had amongst
Dollys' people, and he had to acknowl-
edge that he was taking this trip
somewhat at random into the far wilds
of Cumberland on the chance that
somehow he might knock up against
some one of his kind. who for pity or
cash might give him that sport after
which his soul lusted.
After an interminable drive from
wayside station. he found himself in
a tiny inn, feasting humbly on eggs,
bacon and dubious tea.
He rose at last and with a curiosity
bred of, the country air, he hurried
from the staffy little parlor to the
outer door, just as a horse clattered
past.
To his trained ears it struck him
that there was breeding in the trot,
but he was too late to verify his sup
the rider had disappeared down the
darkening road.
who is so lively at this time OF
night?" he INQUIRED of the landlady,
who had popped out like an indicator
at his first movement
ct was likely Miss vandaleur, of
Bleak Tarn Hail. sir. She's alus astir."
~Oh-the lady whom the driver told
me owned the fishing2"
The same, sir Miss Dolly, she's
called round about here On a horse
or bicycle, it's all one to her. And
after a trout or pike, or standing
her place amongst the guns with the
keenest. She's the wonder Of the
countryside. is Miss Dolly, as all folk
kens.
.sWhere is the hailg.
They We're standing at the little
whitewashed porch. ali festooned with
crimson tropaeolum. The woman
pointed across the sleep tarn. towards
Were the fell rose, gaunt and lower
ing against the fading sun glow in
the western sky.
Edging the tarn was a rim of thick
woodland through which a glimmer
of light from the half hidden house
could be seen.
Amongst yon trees, sir. Our Thorn
as will row you across in the morning.
sir. Miss Dolly keeps time for the
lark. But if it's the fishing as you've
come after-well it's not for such as
me to say-and folk always has t
right to try their own luck, and"
What? You think I have no
chance?"
Depends if you've got name to
you, sir-begging your pardon"
My name? Ali forgot I had not
given you my name a simple one
enough-Lord Alan Robertson.
/, The woman's face Frightened, and
she laughed genially.
You're right as a fiddle, if you've
a lord to your name, sir You'll fetch
her as easy as butter. She's proud,
is Miss Dolly, and weighs folk by