15 Saturday, July 24, 1897 Late the next morning Fanny spotted Amanda sitting beneath a stand of white spruce not far from the little dock and waved from the canoe. She was pleased to be returning home. Fishing with Frank had been an exercise in futility. Though she’d done her best to teach him the proper technique for baiting his hook, he’d been as inept as a young child. He’d bloodied his fingers not once but on three separate occasions. And all had been in vain, for he’d accomplished nothing