be his brothers, go to the outlet every night and cut the nets. The superintendent threatened to have them arrested if they didn't quit it, and they told him that they had always fished in that outlet, and if he wanted the hatchery buildings to stay there, he hadn't better try to stop them. I heard the whole conversation. I was down there when old Dead Shot was broken."
"Who's Dead Shot?" I inquired.
"I am," faintly replied Arthur Hastings's crippled rod.
"Why, that's a queer name for you to bear," said I. "I think it would be more appropriate for a shot-gun or rifle."
"Perhaps it would; but Arthur has always called me that since I caught his first string of yellow pike for him, and it is the name I go by. I never let a fish get away when I get a good grip on him—that is, when I have some one to handle me who knows what he is about. But Jake don't know any thing about a rod, for he has always fished with a pole he cut in the bushes. On the day the superintendent talked so plainly to the vagabonds who cut his nets,
