by the table. He felt quite proud of himself. He had been thoroughly practical.
He came in carrying the log and Bill got up from the chair and helped him put it on the fire.
“That’s a swell log,” Nick said.
“I’d been saving it for the bad weather,” Bill said. “A log like that will bum all night.”
“There’ll be coals left to start the fire in the morning,” Nick said.
“That’s right,” Bill agreed. They were conducting the conversation on a high plane.
“Let’s have another drink,” Nick said.
“I think there’s another bottle open in the locker,” Bill said.
He kneeled down in the corner in front of the locker and brought out a square-faced bottle.
“It’s Scotch,” he said.
“I’ll get some more water,” Nick said. He went out into the kitchen again. He filled the pitcher with the dipper dipping cold spring water from the pail. On his way back to the living room he passed a mirror in the dining room and looked in it. His face looked strange. He smiled at the face in the mirror and it grinned back at him. He winked at it and went on. It was not his face but it didn’t make any difference.
Bill had poured out the drinks.
“That’s an awfully big shot,” Nick said.
“Not for us, Wemedge,” Bill said.
“What’ll we drink to?” Nick asked, holding up the glass.
“Let’s drink to fishing,” Bill said.
“All right,” Nick said. “Gentlemen, I give you fishing.”
“All fishing,” Bill said. “Everywhere.”
“Fishing,” Nick said. “That’s what we drink to.”
“It’s better than baseball,” Bill said.
“There isn’t any comparison,” said Nick. “How did we ever get talking about baseball?”
“It was a mistake,” Bill said. “Baseball is a game for louts.”
They drank all that was in their glasses.
