Peter and I now took seats, and the conversation began about a black cow which Peter had to sell, and which the other was willing to buy if the old man would trade for sheep, which animals, however, the basket-mender did not appear just at that time to have in his possession.  As I was not very much interested in this subject, I walked to the back-door and watched two small boys in scanty shirts and trousers, and ragged straw hats, who were darting about in the grass catching grasshoppers, of which insects, judging by the frequent pounces of the boys, there seemed a plentiful supply.

“Got it full?” said their father, when the boys came in.

“Crammed,” said Dan.

Old Peter took the little can, pressed the top firmly on, put it in his coat-tail pocket, and rose to go.  “You’d better think about that cow, Barney,” said he.  He said nothing to the boys about the box of bait; but I could not let them catch grasshoppers for us for nothing, and I took a dime from my pocket, and gave it to Dan.  Dan grinned, and Sile looked sheepishly happy, and at the sight of the piece of silver an expression of interest came over the face of the father.  “Wait a minute,” said he, and he went into a little room that seemed to be a kitchen.  Returning, he brought with him a small string of trout.  “Do you want to buy some fish?” he said.  “These is nice fresh ones.  I ketched ’em this mornin’.”

To offer to sell fish to a man who is just about to go out to catch them for himself might, in most cases, be considered an insult, but it was quite evident that nothing of the kind was intended by Barney.  He probably thought that if I bought grasshoppers, I might buy fish.  “You kin have ’em for a quarter,” he said.

It was derogatory to my pride to buy fish at such a moment, but the man looked very poor, and there was a shade of anxiety on his face which touched me.  Old Peter stood by without saying a word.  “It might be well,” I said, turning to him, “to buy these fish, for we may not catch enough for supper.”

“Such things do happen,” said the old man.

“Well,” said I, “if we have these we shall feel safe in any case.”  And I took the fish and gave the man a quarter.  It was not, perhaps, a professional act, but the trout were well worth the money, and I felt that I was doing a deed of charity.

Old Peter and I now took our rods, and crossed the road into an enclosed field, and thence into a wide stretch of grass land, bounded by hills in front of us and to the right, while a thick forest lay to the left.  We had walked but a short distance, when Peter said:  “I’ll go down into the woods, and try my luck there, and you’d better go along up stream, about a quarter of a mile, to where it’s rocky.  P’raps you ain’t used to fishin’ in the woods, and you might git your line cotched.  You’ll find the trout’ll bite in the rough water.”

“Where is the stream?” I asked.

“This is it,” he said, pointing to a little brook, which was scarcely too wide for me to step across, “and there’s fish right here, but they’re hard to ketch, fur they git plenty of good livin’ and are mighty sassy about their eatin’.  But you kin ketch ’em up there.”