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The Three Fishermen <5>

Brother was still at memory, we could tell. Silence we thought was heavy about us, but there was so much going on. A bird talked to us from a high limb1. A fox called to her young. We were on the Pine River once again, nearly a hundred miles from home, in Paradise2.

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"Name's Roger Treadwell. Boys are Nathan and Truett." The introductions had been accounted for.

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Old Venerable Roger Treadwell, carpenter, fly fisherman, rocker, leaned forward and said, "You boys wouldn't have a couple spare beers, would ya?"

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Now that's the way to start the day on the Pine River.


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