At a few minutes past five, Dave noted that the blanket of darkness was lifting. He was just able to make out the heavier masses that eventually appeared as the familiar trees that lined the road at the base of the hill. The upper reaches of the sky showed lighter shades of gray. Dave got out of bed quietly and dressed quickly. He mixed a spoonful of instant chocolate into a glass of cold water, and his impatience forced him to finish the drink in gulps. As he walked down toward the lake, Dave paused to reach for the fishing pole and gear box on the bench where he had left them the night before. By the time he reached the small boat, a thick white mist   had spread over the surface of the water. He stepped into the boat, sat down, and rowed out of the weed beds that lined the edge of the shore. The outer fringe of the lake disappeared as the boat moved forward noiselessly. All he could see was the enveloping whiteness. He could not tell where the boat and the surrounding air met the surface of the lake. Dave rowed steadily ahead, relying on a mental picture of the surroundings. Then the mist began to rise, slowly. _ soon rested inches above the still surface of the lake. The heavy silence was now being broken by the fish breaking through the surface as they leaped out of the water for low-flying insects. The magic time had arrived. Dave raised his pole. Dawn was broken. He was excited with expectancy. What can we learn from the end of the story?
Dave was hopeful of catching a lot of fish. Dave wished the weather would be better. Dave was happy that dawn was broken. Dave expected someone else would come.