The garrulous old lady in the stern of the boat had pestered the guide with her comments and questions ever since they had started. Her meek little husband, who was hunched toad-like in the bow, fished in silence. The old lady had seemingly exhausted every possible point in fish and animal life, woodcraft, and personal history when she suddenly espied one of those curious paths of oily, unbroken water frequently seen on small lakes which are ruffled by a light breeze.
"Oh, guide, guide," she exclaimed, "what makes that funny streak in the water - No, there - Right over there!"
The guide was busy re-baiting the old gentleman's hook and merely mumbled "U-m-mm."
"Guide," repeated the old lady in tones that were not to be denied, "look right over there where I'm pointing and tell me what makes that funny streak in the water."
The guide looked up from his baiting with a sigh.
"That? Oh, that's where the road went across the ice last winter."
