A large pine had been felled many years before, probably by lumbermen, and two lengths of it, each about eight feet, had been rejected as unsound.  These the gentlemen, colonel included, got behind, and rolled down into the water.  Mr. Perrowne and the fisherman doffed their shoes and socks, rolled up their trouser legs, and waded in to get the logs in position as sleepers.  Three spars of driftwood, bleached white, were found along the bank, and were laid over the logs at right angles, and kept in their places, as were the logs, by stakes hammered into the lake bottom.  Mr. Errol and Mr. Terry produced some planks, saved from the fire that devoured the stables, and laid them over the erection, making a substantial pier, that would have been the better of a few spikes to steady the boards.  Mr. Bigglethorpe provided rods and lines, and baited the hooks for the ladies, with grasshoppers, frogs, crawfish and minnows.  The last were provided by Marjorie.  At the fisherman’s suggestion, she had got from Tryphena a useless wire dish-cover that had lost its handle, a parcel of oatmeal, and a two-quart tin pail.  Mr. Bigglethorpe had fastened a handle cut out of the bush to the dish cover, thus converting it into a scoop-net.  Barefooted, Marjorie stood in the shallow water, scattering a little oatmeal, when up came a shoal of minnows eager for the food thus provided.  At one fell swoop, the young fisherwoman netted a dozen of the shiny little creatures, and transferred them all alive to the tin pail.  Mr. Errol had a great mind to join her in this exciting sport, but was not sure what Mrs. Carmichael would think of it.  The possibility that he might have become Mr. Coristine’s father-in-law also tended to sober the renewer of his youth.  As Marjorie had practically deserted her friend for the minnows, Mr. Bigglethorpe invited her cousin to accompany him, with Miss Halbert and Mr. Perrowne, in the scow, which paddled off to try how the fishing was at the narrows.  The colonel did not care to fish; it was too dirty work for him.  Neither did the remaining ladies show any appetite for it; but Mr. Errol and the veteran manned the lately constructed pier, and beguiled some bass that came seeking shelter from the sun beneath it.  While the gentlemen were thus engaged, the colonel lying on his back near Marjorie’s fishing ground, indulging in a second cigar, the two ladies strolled away, followed by Muggins, to look for more flowers.  After they had gone about a hundred yards to the right, the dog ran on before them, barking furiously.  Mrs. Carmichael clutched her companion’s arm and stood still.  “It may be a wild beast, Cecile, or some of those terrible men.  Let us go back at once.”  But Miss Du Plessis calmly answered, “It may be only a bird or a squirrel; dogs often make a great fuss over very little.”  So they stood and waited.