Angus McDonald settled himself in the boat and studied       his young guide carefully.

"You ever do this before?" he asked. "Taking fishermen out, I mean."

"I've taken my brother and some of our friends lots of times." 

"How about taking real fisherman - like me?"

"They're real fisherman," he replied. He was about to say that they were probably better fishermen than Mr. McDonald, but he didn't.

"And you always catch fish?"

"Not always, but most of the time we get something. Of course, some days are better than others and some days it's tough to catch anything."

The lines in McDonald's seamed features softened slightly, but there was still concern in his voice. "There's one thing I can say for you, Robert," he continued. "You're honest."

"I don't want to tell you something that's not true."

Angus McDonald nodded his approval. "Are we going to the same place you went to yesterday?" he asked.

Robert shook his head. "I thought I'd stop at a couple of spots on the way to see whether there's anything doing there. That's what Dad always does. We'll probably get

where we fished yesterday some time this afternoon, if we don't get some good action earlier."

McDonald nodded his approval. "I like that. It's sort of like prospecting. You try here a little while, then you try over there. And sometimes you find promising ore in the last place you'd expect to find it." He stopped speaking for a time. "I'm glad Thompson couldn't find someone else to guide me today," he continued. "You and I are going to get along great."

Robert knew many of the good fishing spots in that area, but the lodge manager told him of several others that had produced well within the last week or two. He stopped and tried them on his way to where he had been fishing the day before.

It was easy to see that McDonald was a new hand at fishing of any kind. He had to have help putting the reel on his rod, tie the leader properly and select a good lure. His first cast went no farther than fifteen feet, and his second wrapped the line around his young guide's neck. For an instant Robert was almost afraid to look for the hook.

"You shouldn't have been in the way!" McDonald grumbled indignantly.

His next cast looped the line around the motor. It made a mess the young guide had to spend five minutes untangling.

"I should've made that character at the lodge let us use a bigger boat with a regular car engine," Angus muttered defensively. "How does he expect anyone to cast with a contraption like that hooked to the back of the boat?"

He didn't know much about fishing, but he learned fast. In thirty minutes he was making acceptable casts, getting the lure in the general direction of where he wanted it to go. He caught several small northern pike Robert insisted on throwing back before he got a keeper.

"You're doing all right, Boy," he told Robert as he prepared to move again. "But there were a couple of those you threw away that I'd have kept if I'd been fishing alone."

Robert eyed him thoughtfully, not knowing whether he was being teased or criticized.

"You don't want to get your limit too quick," he protested, "or you'd have to stop fishing too soon."

"If I have that trouble," Angus muttered, more to himself than his young guide, "it'd be the first time."

Twenty minutes later Robert nosed the boat close to the weeds on the far end of a small island and shut off the motor.

It wasn't long until Robert realized it would be safe for him to start fishing, so he got out his own outfit and began to cast. The instant his lure hit the water a large Jack grabbed it, half his length surging out of the water.

"You've got one!" McDonald whooped. "You've got one!"

He played the fish carefully, ignoring the advice his companion was so freely offering.

"Keep your line tight!" McDonald shouted. "You must have the biggest fish in the lake!  Keep it tight, Boy! Watch it! He's going to run now! Don't let him get too near the motor. He's down in the weeds! Careful now, or you'll lose him!"

Robert continued to work with the fish until it was worn out enough to net without trouble.

"Look at that baby, would you?" Angus exclaimed.  "Hold him up so I can get a picture of him!" the easterner said, raising his camera. But he lowered the camera without snapping the shutter. "Would you mind if I held the fish and you took the picture?" he asked. "You do know how to take pictures don't you?"

"I've taken a few," Robert told him, not mentioning the fact that he had a camera of his own.

"I'll set it for you. I want this picture to be good."

The young guide handed the camera to him and McDonald made the adjustments he thought necessary.

"This camera is automatic, but I don't trust the settings they use. It takes someone who really understands cameras and the light conditions to get pictures that are good." He looked down at the fish again. "And this is one that just has to be good. Verda - she's my wife - is always after me because I want to go fishing every chance I get, but to tell you the truth, I don't catch that many. I always go fishing at the wrong time."

Robert wanted to tell him that there might be another reason he hadn't had such good luck, but he didn't.

Angus studied the fish Robert had just caught. "You don't really want this fish, do you?"

Robert shook his head. It didn't matter to him. His friends back on the reserve would laugh at him if he boasted about a fish that size.

McDonald took out his wallet and handed him a twenty dollar bill. '"You take this and I'll take the fish. OK?"

"You don't have to pay me for it. This fish is no big deal."

"I want to be able to tell people that I caught it." He took a deep breath. "Let's see.  How can we work that? I don't want to lie about catching It. I'll tell you what we'll do.  Crack this fish on the head with that little club. When he quits wiggling, throw him to me." He laughed sheepishly. "That way I can say that I caught it."

Robert frowned. He didn't care about the fish, but it bothered him to have McDonald talk about using that stupid story about throwing him the fish to cover up a lie.

They continued to fish until noon.  Robert already had his limit and had thrown a number back. Angus McDonald caught three and let two others get away when he got so excited he jerked the hooks out of their mouths. Finally Robert's fisherman glanced at his watch and said it was time they went in. By then he had changed his mind about trying to make believe he had caught it.

"I've changed my mind, Robert. I'm not going to tell anyone I caught your fish, when I didn't." He changed lures and cast again. "I don't know why I came up with such a stupid idea. I suppose it was because I got to thinking what Verda would do when we got home and talked about our trip out here. I didn't want her telling everyone that I came all the way to northern Saskatchewan to fish and didn't catch anything big enough to brag about. That woman delights in making me look bad in front of my friends."

Robert took the twenty dollars from his pocket and tried to give it back to Angus McDonald, but he refused to take it.

"This is the best fishing trip I've ever had. Let that be a little tip for showing me such a good time." He paused momentarily. "Do you suppose you could go out with me again tomorrow?"

"I suppose so. Unless Mr. Thompson has arranged for somebody else to take you fishing."

"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of him! I want you to guide for me, at least tomorrow. You've brought me luck."

While Mr. McDonald and Robert were fishing, Louis took Verda McDonald to the other side of the lake looking for flowers. He didn't say anything to her about it, but he didn't think much of having to look for flowers. Robert had to put up with a fisherman who didn't know much about it, but at least he was fishing. He hoped his pals back on the reserve didn't find out about this. He never would be able to get them to quit teasing him. But, she wanted to take pictures of flowers, so that's what he would be doing.

And, the first she wanted to see was a dainty little muskeg flower.

"I've never seen a marsh marigold," she said, "but the flower book I have at home has them."

He bit his lip to keep from telling her that they looked like weeds to him.

She paused momentarily, fingering her video camera. "Of course they don't have anything like that back home.  Do you know where we can find them?"

They would be in the muskeg, he decided.  But there was a lot of muskeg around the lake, and he had a hunch that little white flower was very small.

She repeated her question, but he didn't answer her directly. "We'll just have to look for them."

"That sounds exciting," she exclaimed. "I know now what I'll talk about when it's my turn to have the program for my Garden Club. MY EXCITING SEARCH FOR THE TINY MARSH MARIGOLD. You don't care if I tell the ladies about this trip, do you?"

He shook his head. "I do hope something exciting happens." She glanced up at the clouds. "You don't suppose we'll have a bad windstorm today, do you?" she asked, hopefully. "It would be so wonderful if it would. I'd have a great climax for my talk."

Louis had another idea about that, but he didn't tell her.

They stopped at several places to look for the tiny white flower, but didn't find any.  That didn't seem to matter to Mrs. McDonald, however. She seemed to forget all about it as she video taped the wild flowers that grew in such abundance.

"I hope Angus gets at least one fish," she said as they were heading home. "He loves to go fishing, but he's such a dud that it's almost funny." She laughed as she thought about it. "Clyde has been trying to get Angus to come out here and take a look at the mine for the past three years, but he always found some excuse until Hudson sent those fish pictures. That really caught his attention. And before I knew what was happening, he had this trip all arranged. It would be tragic if he didn't at least catch a couple of fish."

By the time they returned to the lodge, Robert and Angus McDonald came in and the boy had filleted the last of fish and was deboning them. Angus showed his wife their catch.

"You should see the one Robert caught. He says it's nothing to brag about, but it's the biggest fish I ever saw anyone catch." He paused. "He's going to take me out fishing again. I'd like to hire him for all the time we're here, but Thompson tells me his dad is a great guide, and can catch me a trophy fish if anybody can.- So, I guess I'll have to go with him the last of the week - if the mine will let him off." He paused, stopping the flow of words, "And Hudson had better let him take me fishing or we'll be looking for a new superintendent at the mine."

The boys left the resort and headed back to their trailer

a mile away. They were almost there when they heard someone moving in the bush.

"Hey!" Robert called out. "Wait a minute!  We're just coming home!"

But, whoever it was, didn't stop. They could hear the sound of running feet crashing noisily through the bush.

"We've had company!" He exclaimed.

"You don't suppose they're the guys we fought with," Louis asked uneasily.

Robert saw a crudely printed note nailed to the door of their trailer.  

"I wish Dad had been here and caught whoever left that note!" Louis muttered. "He'd give them what they deserve!"

Robert took the note down, and when their dad came home from work, he showed it to him.

"I talked with a couple of men on the Council this morning," he said. "They were going to have the tribal police look into it." He sat at the kitchen table and read the note again. "Sterling must be rattling a few cages over there and the guilty guys are getting uneasy."

"I hope they're more than uneasy!" Robert retorted. "I'd like to see them so scared they'd go a thousand miles away and never come back."

"I wouldn't," his brother said. "I'd like to see them go to jail for thirty years."