"I 'm gettin' plumb dried out," Billy announced, mopping the
sweat from his sunburned forehead. "What d'ye say we head for the
coast?"
West they turned, dropping down wild mountain gorges from the
height of land of the interior valleys. So fearful was the road,
that, on one stretch of seven miles, they passed ten broken-down
automobiles. Billy would not force the mares and promptly camped
beside a brawling stream from which he whipped two trout at a
time. Here, Saxon caught her first big trout. She had been
accustomed to landing them up to nine and ten inches, and the
screech of the reel when the big one was hooked caused her to cry
out in startled surprise. Billy came up the riffle to her and
gave counsel. Several minutes later, cheeks flushed and eyes
dancing with excitement, Saxon dragged the big fellow carefully
from the water's edge into the dry sand. Here it threw the hook
out and flopped tremendously until she fell upon it and captured
it in her hands.
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