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 THE TALE OFAREJUVENATION 
 
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Fishing with a Boy 
 
 The Tale of a Rejuvenation 
 
 By 
 
 LEONARD HULIT 
 
 rrewASTsrip: 
 
 
 ONCJJNATL U S. A. 
 
 CINCINNATI 
 STEWART KIDD COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright, 1921 
 STEWART KIDD COMPANY 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 Copyright in England 
 
^55 
 
 Z 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 To Joseph B. Cawthorn, whose genial comradery 
 on ocean^ lake^ and stream^ extending through many 
 yearSy has been an inexpressible delight^ and 
 whose love of fishing is exceeded only by his devo- 
 tion to his friends and his "art" which has earned 
 for him the soubriquet "The Man of a Million 
 Smiles" this volume is dedicated. 
 
 The Author. 
 
 ivi8;589l4 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 In introducing this character sketch of the boy 
 "Matt" to the pubHc no attempt has been made 
 to have it appear an ambitious work, but 
 rather the simple tale of a red-blooded country- 
 boy who knew fish and fishing far better than 
 school books. 
 
 It was his misfortune to be orphaned early in 
 life, so his subsequent training devolved entirely 
 upon his "Aunt Mary," who, while a rather stern 
 disciplinarian, keeping him within wholesome 
 bounds, still was never unduly severe, and who 
 took a perhaps pardonable pride in attributing 
 his virtues to what she termed her method of 
 "bringing of him up." 
 
 That his love of the wild things of the woods 
 and waters was intuitive must be believed from 
 his habit of searching out for his own delectation 
 many of their mysterious ways while at a very 
 tender age. 
 
 And while unlettered and uncouth in many 
 ways, he was respected throughout the com- 
 munity in which he passed his life as an exponent 
 of uncompromising integrity. 
 
 Mr. Woodhull, when the writer first knew him, 
 was an anaemic, broken man, due to over-zealous 
 attention to business matters, who built back 
 rapidly to health and vigor through the effects of 
 
 5 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 open air and sunshine, found in his rambles with 
 the lad over woodland and meadow. 
 
 While their stations in life were widely di- 
 vergent, yet there grew up between them a last- 
 ing attachment and affection. 
 
 The lad's aptitude for acquiring knowledge 
 was not confined to the living things he met 
 with. Trees and plants were the subjects of his 
 continual investigations, and he had the quaintest 
 of expressions in readiness to evolve his ideas of 
 their ways. In fact, a veritable "Natty Bumppo" 
 of later days, and, like his prototype, he loved the 
 solitude of the forest, and in later life spent much 
 of his time in such haunts in quest of its wild 
 inhabitants. 
 
 He devotedly cared for his Aunt Mary during 
 the remaining years of her life, his traps, gun, 
 and "fishin' pole" being important factors to 
 that end. 
 
 While most of the fishes discussed in these 
 chapters are of the humbler varieties, still they 
 are important. Vastly important to the legions 
 of oncoming youths, who, if in their turn will lend 
 attentive ear to the call of the "pond and brook" 
 and learn the lessons so plainly portrayed on 
 "nature's chart," will not only become stronger 
 and better men because of it, but, as Matt would 
 say, "You alius know things better when you 
 find 'em out yourself." 
 
 Many of the photos are of the territory over 
 which the boy rambled and fished. The old 
 
 6 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 home is much the same as when the boy lived 
 there, excepting the fact that it has been shingled 
 in recent years. The old grapevine, as can be 
 seen, rambles over most of the entrance, and 
 seems as vigorous as in the old days. 
 
 If the perusal of these pages causes increase in 
 the love for the great out-of-doors in the breast 
 of youth, then the writer will feel content and 
 continue to "go fishin.' " 
 
 Leonard Hulit. 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 Leonard Hulit has performed a real service 
 to a multitude of anglers by giving permanent 
 form to his delightful story concerning the fishing 
 exploits of the boy Matt, which has been appear- 
 ing in recent numbers of Forest and Stream. 
 
 Every fisherman holds in his memory the keen 
 joy he experienced when as a boy he first learned 
 the secrets of the brooks and ponds, and this 
 story of Matt Buckley will kindle anew the 
 smouldering fires of youthful enthusiasm. The 
 affairs and responsibilities of life soon crowd out 
 the happy emotions that were born when life 
 was young and all the world a wide field for ex- 
 ploration. It is good to ponder again the things 
 which we now know were the true inspirations 
 from which have sprung all that we can view in 
 our lives with durable satisfaction. 
 
 Matt Buckley and his xA-unt Mary were real 
 characters who lived in a country that is familiar 
 to Mr. Hulit. The vestiges of that time are gone, 
 but the quaint ways of the boy and the shrewd 
 but kindly qualities of the aunt, so charmingly 
 described by the author, still live in the memory 
 of those who knew them. 
 
 Matt was known throughout the countryside 
 for his ready wit and straightforward honesty; 
 
 9 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 they were attributes that endeared him to all 
 with whom he came in contact. 
 
 In the present book Matt's observations on 
 the many strange things he sees in nature and his 
 whimsical manner oi interpreting them are an 
 ever-present delight. His ways of fishing were 
 devised from his own experiences, and are there- 
 fore full of originality. The Mr. Woodhull in 
 the story, whose rejuvenation is so pleasantly ex- 
 emplified by the author, is a true likeness of one 
 who renewed his just and equable poise from close 
 contact with the health-giving precepts of out- 
 door life under the tutelage of a sane and happy 
 country boy. 
 
 In writing this story the author has drawn 
 from his own fund of information on fishing, 
 based on his observations of the habits of many 
 of our fresh-water fishes, and his conclusions are 
 eminently sound. While the book will undoubt- 
 edly have a strong appeal to the younger genera- 
 tion of anglers because it treats of the ways of 
 youth, yet the old and experienced fisherman will 
 find many things of interest within its pages. 
 The story is woven upon a solid framework of 
 practical instruction, as the author has brought 
 to his work that masterful knowledge of his 
 subject which he has gained from many years of 
 angling experience. 
 
 John P. Holman, 
 Managing Editor Forest and Stream. 
 
 New York, March 7, 1921. 
 10 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 A Rejuvenation _--- 15 
 
 Cattie Fishing ---------- 24 
 
 Catfish Philosophy - 34 
 
 Ways of the Perch -------- 47 
 
 Catching and Spearing Suckers - - - - 64 
 
 Bobbing for Eels and Selling Frogs - - - 79 
 Bobbing for Eels --------- 89 
 
 Fishing for Carp and Crappies - - - - 103 
 
 Tales the River Told to Matt - - - - 118 
 
 Crabs and Crabbing ---129 
 
 Mysteries of the River ------- 140 
 
 Fly Fishing for Striped Bass ----- 150 
 
 A Storm on the River - - 161 
 
 Unexpected Joys ---------176 
 
 Reflections and Incidents ------187 
 
 The Leopard of the Lake 195 
 
 Randolph Jones --- 205 
 
 II 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "Matt" Hearing the white bridge in quest 
 
 of "catties" _ _ - - Frontispiece 
 
 Facing Page 
 
 At the extreme headwaters a bridge crossed 
 
 the stream ___-_--- 26 
 
 The boy sat reflectively digging his toe into 
 
 the bank --------- 44 
 
 Aunt IMary and Matt in warm discussion - 50 
 
 A farm scene along the "Manasquan" - 64 
 
 The end of a perfect day ----- 96 
 
 "Please, Mr. Adams, don't let me lose him," 
 
 pleaded the boy -------116 
 
 A quiet vale miles above the camp - - - 124 
 
 Inspecting the hamper while Matt foraged 
 
 for wood _---_---- 128 
 
 Mr. Woodhull returning to camp - - - 174 
 
 Mr. Adams waded out for a cast - - - 176 
 
 The two men idled their time away over a 
 
 slough above camp - - - - - - 182 
 
 J 
 
Fishing with a Boy 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 A Rejuvenation 
 
 It has been aptly said that it is not all of fishing 
 to "catch fish." Equally may it be said that it 
 is not all of "catching fish" to catch the more 
 important varieties. 
 
 The writer would not for a moment decry the 
 glory of capturing salmon or trout, nor the battle 
 with the sturdy black bass when it is done with 
 appliances which are the last word or thought of 
 the tackle maker's art. 
 
 And who will ever aptly tell the supreme satis- 
 faction the angler feels when with deft hand the 
 pHant split bamboo lays the delicate silk line and 
 single gut leader with delusive fly, light as a 
 thistle's down, at the exact spot on the distant 
 pool, to be snapped up by a glorious creature 
 springing like a sunbeam from the depths, to be 
 finally creeled — a victim of fine tackle and fine 
 art? Indeed such "finesse" may be embodied that 
 the wielder of the rod may have spent untold 
 hours debating with an equally enthusiastic fish- 
 erman as to whether he should fish up or down 
 
 15 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 stream, and sustaining his argument as a zealot 
 might in defense of his religion. 
 
 All this is very well, and no criticism is in- 
 tended, but what of the man who "goes a-fishin' " 
 who knows nothing of technique and has but 
 little wealth to bestow on equipment? If a trout 
 takes his hook, well and good; it is unceremo- 
 niously taken from the element of its life and 
 strung on a willow sprout, to be joined later by 
 some humbler species, perhaps perch or the 
 despised brook sucker. 
 
 And who is there to say with emphasis or con- 
 clusion there is no touch of technique here? 
 Just one of the many troubles of life may have 
 sent the man to the brookside. Ill health or busi- 
 ness cares may be his lot and surcease of these 
 his object. Crude may be his outfit, but one may 
 notice the brightening eye as he selects his pliant 
 birch or maple pole. 
 
 Poise and balance may not be as perfect as in 
 the expensive article, but here we are confronted 
 by the mastering fact: the man by his look shows 
 he is completely satisfied with his selection. How 
 much more can one have than that? The man 
 knows the spot he will try: down in the old 
 meadow where the freshets of years have washed 
 out a wide and deep pool at the foot of the old 
 maple. It has been several years since he visited 
 the place, and his quick eye takes in the fact that 
 some of the top branches of the old tree show 
 signs of decay. 
 
 i6 
 
A REJUVENATION 
 
 He heaves a sigh of satisfaction at the thought 
 that all nature travels in the same direction, and 
 that he is not an exception. Experience in the 
 past has taught him that he may, if his luck is 
 with him, take any of several varieties of fish. 
 
 Trout, as well as pickerel, have been taken 
 there in the past by him, but it is best to never 
 count on such. Commoner fish are always more 
 to be expected, and with that, too, he is satisfied. 
 Oh the satisfaction there is in being satisfied! As 
 he pushes his way across the open meadow a bed 
 of buttercups smile up at him, and he pauses a 
 moment to look at an industrious bee drinking 
 among the petals of the flowers. 
 
 He falls to wondering where the hive of the 
 workers may be and who may enjoy the delicious 
 sweetness the coming winter when the bee's labor 
 is done in wax. 
 
 Would the gold in the buttercups be deeper or 
 the bee more industrious if the man carried a 
 fifty-dollar bamboo rod or was costumed in the 
 latest type of waders and other garments? Would 
 the summer breeze which floats in from the adja- 
 cent hills be more delectable to one than to 
 another? 
 
 A red-headed woodpecker is drumming mo- 
 notonously on the tree as the man goes under it, 
 and he stops and is amused at the undulating 
 flight of the bird across a neighboring field. He 
 falls to wondering w^hy only birds of this family 
 have that queer way with them in their flight. 
 
 2 17 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 Nature is pulling at his heart strings, and he 
 doesn't care whether his fishing pole costs fifty 
 dollars or not. 
 
 As he sits down on the grass by the side of the 
 pool he notices that, while the current causes 
 dimples to come and go as in the days past on 
 the surface, the stream does not seem so wide as 
 when he was last there, and he falls to wondering 
 if the clearing up of the woodland above should 
 have caused the change. 
 
 He begins sorting out from a promiscuous lot 
 the hook which will best suit the work in hand. 
 It is not even gut snelled, just a common hook, 
 with ring into which to tie the line, but it has given 
 him good service in the past, and fish have not 
 changed their habits, he mentally argues. 
 
 Not even a painted top-float was in his kit — 
 just a big bottle cork was all he brought, and 
 then he had not made a hole through it, but his 
 way of earlier days was still with him, and, 
 sharpening a stick, he pushed it through the cork, 
 first from one end and then from the other, until 
 the spongy substance gave way and at last an 
 opening was made through which to pass his 
 line. 
 
 So absorbed was he with his work that he was 
 fast forgetting why he was there. He was "just 
 fishin' " and happy. 
 
 The droning of the bees aloft through the tree 
 was soothing to his tired nerves, and the deep 
 shade a comfort. Across to the west in a swamp 
 
 i8 
 
A REJUVENATION 
 
 a lot of crows set up a noisy cawing, swooping 
 in and out, and the man saw a hawk sitting in a 
 tree, and it called to his mind many such scenes 
 he had witnessed when a boy. 
 
 Such matters had almost escaped his memory. 
 Then he began wondering why and when the 
 enmity between the crow and hawk began, and 
 he almost forgot the cork float on the water. He 
 looked in time to see it disappear, and the old im- 
 pulse to jerk quick and hard was with him, but 
 he thought better and tightened well on the line 
 and found a fish was hooked. His pliant birch at 
 last threw the victim out, which flopped on the 
 grass just as it had done when the man was a boy. 
 
 "Catfish," he said aloud. "Well, why not?" 
 Gingerly he took up the fish, well remembering 
 what that set of spine rays at the sides and at the 
 dorsal fin could do to the hand if carelessly 
 handled. It was not a large fish and not really 
 small, just the average size, and the man wondered 
 how many like it he had taken from the same pool 
 when as a boy he had fished there. 
 
 "Gee, Mister, are they bitin'?" said a voice, 
 and the man, half startled, looked up to see a boy 
 very like himself when of the same age. One 
 trouser leg was rolled up to the knee, the other 
 was down to near the ankle; a much-faded shirt 
 and a straw hat which had evidently been in 
 contact with a bumblebee's nest completed his 
 make-up. There were freckles a-plenty on his 
 nose and cheeks. He carried a tin can with 
 
 19 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 worms in it in one hand and a maple pole in the 
 other. The man greeted him pleasantly as he 
 approached. 
 
 The boy turned the fish over carefully with his 
 toe and said: "There's plenty of 'em in here, an* 
 they'll bite better to'ards night," then seated 
 himself cross-legged on the grass. The man and 
 boy were friends from that moment. Silently 
 the boy impaled the worm to his liking, and the 
 man noticed how nicely he adjusted the cork on 
 the line so that the baited hook would just clear 
 the bottom. 
 
 "No novice, that," said the man mentally. He 
 noticed, too, that the maple pole was carefully 
 decorated by stripping the bark clean in sections 
 of six inches, then leaving the bark on for two 
 inches, and so on to the end. "Seems though we 
 might have a shower," remarked the boy, as he 
 removed a pumpkin seed from his hook and 
 looked around at the sky, "'Twon't hurt nothin', 
 can't get much wet, and the fish will bite better. 
 This old maple is a heap of shelter when it rains." 
 The man saw the boy was inclined to be talk- 
 ative and he encouraged him. "I lost an ol' 
 whopper pike here last week," he continued. 
 "Was tired catchin' sunnies, so I cut off the belly 
 of one an' left the fins on an' went skitterin' right 
 there by the spatter dock, an' smack he took it 
 an' most jerked me in. Gosh! I bet he would 
 weigh most four pounds, mebbe five." Then the 
 man made a mental note that the belly of a 
 
 20 
 
A REJUVENATION 
 
 sunny, with fins left on, was a good lure for 
 pickerel. 
 
 There was action almost all the afternoon for 
 both boy and man. While no record fish were 
 taken, still it was "fishin'," as the boy put it, 
 and the man was enraptured. The catch was 
 mostly "catties," as the boy called them, with a 
 sprinkling of sunnies and a few perch. Toward 
 evening the man tried the sunfish lure, after the 
 boy had trimmed it down for him, and succeeded 
 in getting a vigorous strike from a pickerel, but 
 did not hook it. "Hook's too small, that's why," 
 said the boy, "like mine t'other day. 
 
 "When you go after them birds you want a big 
 hook. They got a mouth just like a goose, only 
 bigger, an' when you hook one you best boss him 
 in fast as ever or off he goes. It's one thin' I don't 
 like about this hole: you can't never tell just 
 what will take holt, an' what you ain't fixed for 
 is what most like will come. What I most like 
 is to know what you're after and then fix for 'em. 
 
 "Say," he exclaimed, "there was a feller stop- 
 pin' over at Doane's house last season, and he 
 fished all over here. He had a pole 'bout like a 
 straw an' long as ever. One day he took two 
 good trout down by the gravel bed below. He 
 had 'em when I got to him. Gosh! I don't know 
 how he done it — he used feathers, flies he called 
 'em, an' no worm on 'em. 
 
 "He didn't take no more after I got there. He 
 was a dude, all togged up, an' he took a callin' 
 
 21 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 me 'Buckskin,' what for I don't know, but it 
 made me mad, and to get square, when he put 
 his basket down I watched my chance and sHpped 
 two 'catties' in an' took out his trout an' Ht out 
 for home lickity spHt. Gosh! but I bet he was 
 mad. I never seen him but once more, and he 
 was on one side of the creek an' I was on the other, 
 an' I took care to stay there. He said he had 
 some hooks I could have if I would wade across, 
 but I told him I was delicate and afraid I'd take 
 cold. He! he!" So the boy rambled on, the man 
 taking many cues from the way in which he man- 
 aged his rig and how he adjusted bait, and when 
 time for quitting came the bov had the best string. 
 "On'y 'cause I had the better hook," he said, "an' 
 know better where to fish. You can do jes' as well 
 next time, 'cause you'll know, an' say, if you'll 
 tell me when you will come again I'll bring you 
 one of my hooks and you will have better luck." 
 The sun had gone down behind the hills as 
 the man went back to his abode. He was learn- 
 ing a lesson. Never had he spent so gladsome an 
 afternoon since his boyhood days. In the boy 
 he saw a reflection of himself at that period in 
 life, but the boy had a touch about him which he 
 felt he never possessed. The real soulfulness of 
 the game seemed to him to be that no matter 
 what the specimen taken the boy was gloating 
 over it and, as he afterward told him, "Why 
 shouldn't I love 'em? We've growed up together 
 in the neighborhood, an* I bet no fancy fish you 
 
 22 
 
A REJUVENATION 
 
 know of will beat some of the common kind, as 
 you call 'em, an' I'll show you some day." And 
 so the man went home that night with happy 
 thoughts, and, as he had not done for many 
 weary months, wrapped the drapery of his couch 
 about him and 
 
 '''Lay down to pleasant dreams" 
 
 23 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Cattie Fishing 
 
 The mail was late one morning at the village 
 near which the man was boarding, and he was 
 awaiting its arrival at the store. One of those 
 quaint affairs, so general throughout the rural 
 districts, with its motley collection of merchan- 
 dise, where could be had 
 
 Liniment to cure lumbago; 
 Plowshares^ oranges^ and sago. 
 
 The man was one of a numberless throng who, 
 through dint of long hours and every-day service 
 over ponderous ledgers, though not yet of middle 
 life, had reached the condition where rest and 
 change was imperative. 
 
 His wife and one child had gone to spend an 
 interval of time with her people, while he had 
 decided to recuperate in the region of his youth. 
 
 As in most sections of its kind, but few changes 
 had taken place during his absence. Some of his 
 old friends had passed to the great beyond, while 
 those of his own years had become the staid resi- 
 dents, working out their destiny much as had 
 their predecessors. He was reading a sale bill 
 hung up in the store when in breezed his boy 
 acquaintance of a few days previous, garbed much 
 
CATTIE FISHING 
 
 the same as on the previous day, except that his 
 battered straw hat was replaced by a cap equally 
 disreputable in appearance, worn well back on 
 his head, showing off to good advantage the 
 freckles on nose and cheeks. 
 
 "Hello!" he said, on catching sight of the man. 
 "Feelin' better now.^ I ain't been to the ponds 
 nor creek since leavin' you that night, 'ceptin' 
 once just 'fore dark. Got some catties an' one 
 wallopin' eel. It's cloudy to-day an' may rain 
 some. If you don't mind, s'posin' we go after 
 catties 'long 'bout two o'clock? Aunt Mary'll 
 let me go; she gen'ly does when the garden work's 
 done and no errands to do. An' say," he ran on, 
 scarcely taking breath, "you needn't bother none 
 about bait. I've got a lot of worms washed and 
 mossed; keep better that way; makes 'em tougher. 
 If you look the moss over good an' pick out the 
 dead grass ends the worms won't cut, 'nen keep 
 'em where it is nice and cool." 
 
 The boy had a peculiar method of abbreviation 
 when speaking earnestly. His "and then" was 
 usually corrupted into " 'nen," and so on through 
 an original and regular vocabulary. " 'Ceptin'," 
 he continued, "you might bring 'long a piece of 
 beef if it's good and red. Catties take it some- 
 times better'n worms. Funny, ain't it, how 
 they'll notionate 'bout eatin' this a-way an' 
 that? Got good hooks?" he asked. "They've 
 got most all kinds here." So, upon inspection, a 
 selection was made which suited the boy's idea 
 
 25 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 as to size. He examined the mark 2-0 on the end 
 of the box with a puzzled air. "I d'know why 
 they mark 'em that way," he thoughtfully ob- 
 served. "There's a reason, I s'pose. Anyhow, 
 that's good size, but most anything will catch 
 catties, but might as well have 'em right. An' 
 say, Mister, what does that mean?" His finger 
 followed the word "Kirbed" on the blue label of 
 the box. 
 
 The man explained that it meant the point 
 was bent or sprung out from a straight hne with 
 the frame of the hook. The explanation was met 
 with the simple monosyllabic "Oh," adding, how- 
 ever, as to himself: "They're dandy hooks, but 
 too small for pike an' some too large for perch or 
 sunnies." Here was a hint which was taken good- 
 naturedly by the man, and their heads were soon 
 together making selection, 4-0 for pike, as the 
 boy persisted in calling them, and No. 12 for 
 smaller fish. 
 
 The man divided his purchase equally with the 
 boy, much to the latter's delight. He scurried 
 away and from somewhere produced two large 
 bottle corks and at once proceeded to place the 
 hooks thereon, pressing the points well in. The 
 man received a letter from home, the boy a news- 
 paper for his aunt. They separated at the door, 
 the boy calling back from quite a distance: 
 "Meet you at the white bridge 'bout two, meb'e 
 a little sooner," then went on down the road with 
 his care-free swing, the man reflectiiag that there 
 
 26 
 
< 
 
CATTIE FISHING 
 
 are Tom Sawyers or Huck Finns in every neigh- 
 borhood awaiting another Mark Twain to record 
 them. 
 
 The youngster was on the bridge at the time 
 appointed, and as the man approached was in- 
 dustriously hurHng bits of rock at a red squirrel 
 in an adjacent tree, the squirrel as industriously 
 dodging this way and that, now up, now down, 
 then out on a limb as the rocks struck the trunk 
 with resounding thwacks, meanwhile keeping up 
 the blustering chatter of its nature. 
 
 The boy had not noticed the approach of his 
 friend until he heard his step on the planks, so 
 intent was he in his pursuit of the squirrel. Then 
 he said: "Wish't I had a gun. Them chick-a-rees 
 ain't no use 'cept to chase the big greys through 
 the woods and rob every bird's nest in creation." 
 
 He, although uncouth of speech to a degree, 
 was fast learning the ways of the wood folks as 
 well as that of the denizens of the waters. The 
 man noticed with pleasure that during their 
 many excursions no coarse speech escaped the 
 boy's lips, though crude in many ways and some 
 of his sayings were uncanny. "There goes a 
 flicker," he observed, as they passed by a large 
 ash tree in the meadow. "I'll bet she's got a 
 nest in that dead limb out there. See that hole?" 
 His eyes took in carefully the trunk of the tree, 
 which was much too large for him to attempt to 
 cHmb. "High-holders we call 'em, but they can't 
 sing, they just squawk." 
 
 27 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 "I didn't bring no pole with me to-day no 
 more'n you," chattered on the boy, "We'll go 
 over to the birch sprouts an' cut what's good an' 
 limber. Most fun in catching catties is to see the 
 pole bend, an' that gives 'em a chance to scoot 
 around more; 'tain't no fun in jest hossin* 'em 
 out. Got a knife? My name's Matt," he rambled 
 on, "though most of folks here call me Mott. 
 Why, I don't know. What can I call you b'sides 
 Mister?" The man good-naturedly informed him 
 his name was WoodhuU, at which the boy re- 
 mained thoughtfully quiet for some time as 
 though to fix the name indelibly in his mind. 
 "They'll do," he remarked, as he looked the two 
 birch poles with their white butts and red tops 
 over critically which had been selected and closely 
 trimmed. "They're good an' long, so we will use 
 a line some shorter, so as when the pole is bent 
 you can keep the fish comin' slow, but you get 
 him." Mr. Woodhull had kept in view, since 
 their first meeting, the intense, practical methods 
 of the boy. The ethics of the game were his. He 
 seemed at fault on no essential point. 
 
 Even when it came to baiting up, as he termed 
 it, there was method. "See?" he said. "I do not 
 run the hook all the way through the worm, but 
 weave the hook in and out two or three times; 
 that lets the worm live longer and does not tear 
 it up so; b'sides, fish see it better if it wriggles." 
 
 They were at the place where the boy had said, 
 the day of their first meeting, was good for catties, 
 
CATTIE FISHING 
 
 and each proceeded on his own initiative. Matt, 
 first gauging the depth of the water, then set his 
 float so that the bait would just clear the bottom 
 as it moved about with the current. 
 
 "They're always on the bottom," he observed, 
 "an' the closer you fish the more you'll get. 
 There's no sense in puttin' on more'n one worm 
 at a time; they don't get 'em in bunches 'ceptin* 
 on some fool's hook. I fish away from the cur- 
 rent an' more where it moves 'round in circles. 
 See, there's one now." With a quick jump to his 
 feet, the pliant pole was sent into quick doubles, 
 the hooked fish darting here and there, but 
 gradually being worked to the bank, where, with 
 a flourish, the boy sent him into the air and laid 
 him on the grass, a fine specimen of his tribe. 
 "He's a broad-mouth," observed Matt; then to 
 Mr. Woodhull: "Ever notice any difi^erence in 
 catties?" Perhaps the latter had in his early 
 days, but if so had forgotten the fact. "See, the 
 mouth is wide and head broad; some we get up 
 in the little mill pond are diff'erent. Their heads 
 are not near so broad and mouth smaller, and 
 have white bellies always. An' this kind have 
 plumb dirt-color bellies. I wonder why? This 
 way I take 'em off," he said, walking over to his 
 companion and placing his left thumb behind the 
 fin on the right side of the fish, then the index 
 and middle finger over the back and on either 
 side of the back or dorsal spine ray, and so on 
 over to the left side, thus pinioning all the dan- 
 
 29 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 gcrous rays to a rigid position and under perfect 
 control. WoodhuU had known all this in his 
 earlier days, and so many of the moves and 
 methods of the boy Matt was Hke re-reading a 
 well-known book. But time and business thoughts 
 had swept them temporarily from his mind, and 
 good it was to him to have this youthful mentor 
 at his side not alone for his helpfulness, but his 
 cheerful association and quaint sayings were al- 
 ways amusing and very interesting. 
 
 "Another thing," continued Matt, "there's no 
 sense in battin' a fish or eel over the head with a 
 stick or bangin' it on the ground, holdin' on to 
 the line. I stick the knife blade just back of the 
 head, 'nen push down hard and go through the 
 backbone. The fish is dead in a jiffy; he can't 
 wriggle 'round no more and saves lots of trouble. 
 Say," he said, brightening up, "a man was down 
 here last year fishin', and he said that fish never 
 had pains. They had no 'pain nerves,' he called 
 'em; you couldn't hurt 'em same as a dog or cat. 
 Do you believe that?" he asked earnestly. Then, 
 as if a happy thought came to him, he said: 
 "Gosh! if that's so, they never have the belly- 
 ache," and he laid down on the grass and giggled. 
 The fish just taken was a good one of two pounds 
 or more in weight, and as he had performed the 
 operation he had last mentioned of cutting 
 through the backbone close up to the head, the 
 fish was limp and fast dying. "Ts there any sense 
 to them things, and if so, what?" he asked Mr. 
 
 30 
 
CATTIE FISHING 
 
 Woodhull, as he fingered the barbels on the lips 
 and chin of the fish. He was told that they were 
 much the same to a fish as the whiskers to a cat 
 or dog; very sensitive to touch and no doubt 
 helped the fish much in searching out its food. 
 The only reply was the familiar "Oh." Fish were 
 taking hold in fair shape, and both were content 
 for a time to apply their attention to their re- 
 spective lines, except when a larger one than 
 usual was taken, or it might be a very small one, 
 sujfficient to cause comment, but little of conversa- 
 tion for a period ensued. "Did you bring along 
 the beef?" finally asked the boy. "I'll try it and 
 see what they say to it." The beef was produced 
 and a small portion put on the hook by the boy 
 and was quickly taken by a fish, the boy remark- 
 ing: "See, they are hungry and will take most 
 any kind of bait. Some days they are too lazy 
 to bite at more'n worms, and then not always at 
 them unless they want to. 
 
 "I wonder what's doin' on your hook?" Then 
 after a moment or two, as they watched Mr. 
 Woodhull's float work over where the water was 
 quite shallow, "Don't seem Hke a cattie; meb'e 
 it's an eel, but don't seem like it." Then the float 
 came to rest, partly submerged, and both were 
 puzzled. The man raised his pole and remarked, 
 "It's a stick, I think. I'll see," and drew all from 
 the water. "Gee! What's that?" yelled the boy, 
 as he ducked his head and an object like a lizard 
 swept over, fastened to the man's hook. "I never 
 
 31 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 seen anything like it before. Seems most like 
 an alligator, only uglier in shape." It was much 
 like a lizard, in fact, but the tail was quite as 
 long as the body and quite without taper, the 
 whole animal being disgusting in appearance in 
 the extreme, and so sluggish in its movements as 
 to appear almost inanimate. The boy stood well 
 away from it and seemed spellbound. "Wonder 
 if it's pizen?" he said. The man, much amused, 
 watched the face of the boy for a short period 
 and then said: "Yes, I remember seeing one 
 before; it was from a pond above here. A man 
 took it from a muddy slough. He called it a 
 'mud-puppy' or 'hell-bender,' and said they were 
 harmless." "Well," said Matt, after a consider- 
 able pause, "the last name is best, an' I hope if 
 there's any more of them they'll forget to bite." 
 Bringing a stick down across the back of the 
 offending creature with all his might, he cut the 
 line well away from its mouth, thus sacrificing 
 the hook, and, gathering the remains on the end 
 of the stick, he threw them across the creek into 
 the brush with the remark: "Gosh! I didn't be- 
 lieve there was a thing like that around these 
 parts. I knowed there was blood-suckers in the 
 shoal water down below, but a thing like that! 
 Suppose one should get hold of a fellow when he's 
 in swimmin'. Gosh! why it's a foot long," he 
 continued, "meb'e more." Then seating himself 
 by the side of the man, he began working his big 
 toe into the soft bank below the sod and seemed 
 
 3^ 
 
CATTIE FISHING 
 
 troubled in spirit. All interest in fishing had 
 suddenly left him. The man had resumed his 
 fishing, but the boy's pole was dangling in the 
 water, his mind fully absorbed by the thought of 
 what to him was a monstrosity. 
 
 "Let's go home," he said. "It's most night, 
 and we've got plenty of fish for both of us. I 
 hope I don't dream about that bender to-night. 
 I don't like to think about such things as that." 
 
 33 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Catfish Philosophy 
 
 The weather was inclement for several days 
 following the mud-puppy incident, and Mr. Wood- 
 hull had seen nor heard nothing of Matt. Heavy 
 rains had fallen, making fishing practically im- 
 possible in the much-swollen creek. The first 
 afternoon that conditions promised fair he walked 
 down to the cottage where the boy resided with 
 his widowed aunt. He did this not solely because 
 he was lonesome, but subconsciously the boy was 
 fast becoming an essential part of his upbuilding 
 recreation. He had found in him a gem which, 
 like so many another, needed polishing only and 
 a proper setting to become a brilliant. 
 
 The cottage and garden were well kept. The 
 aunt was inclined to be talkative after introduc- 
 tion by Matt, who was delighted at the prospect 
 of a long visit from his friend. 
 
 "Seem'd ough it would never stop rainin','' he 
 broke in between commonplaces in the conversa- 
 tion. "Gates is up at both dams at the mills, an' 
 the creek's flooded, but it's some better to-dav. 
 To-morrow'U be all right at the mill hole — the 
 upper one, an' " — 
 
 "Land's sake!" observed the aunt. "If Matt 
 could learn other things as he does fish and where 
 
 34 
 
CATFISH PHILOSOPHY 
 
 to go for them it would be more like, but," she 
 added aside, "he's a good boy in the main and a 
 sight of help and company for me. He's turned 
 thirteen now, and when school is over and his 
 garden work and chores are done, I don't mind. 
 He brings home a lot of fish and sometimes more 
 than we can use, and they help out with the table. 
 And when one takes a thought on the different 
 ways they can be cooked it helps out all the 
 more." 
 
 "There's perch in the gate hole an' plenty of 
 'em," said Matt, "an' some big ones, too, but I 
 don't know if they'll bite when the water's riled 
 up. They don't often, but we can get some grass- 
 hoppers; that will sometimes tempt 'em." 
 
 That the boy was well provided with poles 
 was evidenced by the stock stored in the rafters 
 of the woodshed, many of which had never as 
 yet seen service, but all showed the same care in 
 selection and trimming, and had the initials 
 M. B. cut in the butt of each. Each had its related 
 history as to which particular swamp had pro- 
 duced it, and what it was especially designed for. 
 
 No collection of split bamboos in the den of 
 the man of wealth were ever displayed with more 
 pride. But these were cheap; the swamp and 
 woodlands produced them without cost. 
 
 Lines and hooks were, however, a more serious 
 matter. They cost money, of which the lad had 
 but little. The aunt, while quite indulgent, could 
 spare but little from her meager income, except 
 
 35 
 
FISHING W ITH A BOY 
 
 for his clothing. Even part of the small earnings 
 of the lad by doing an occasional errand or chore 
 for a neighbor must go into the general fund. 
 
 One privilege, however, he had: a neighbor had 
 given him a steel trap, and the past two winters 
 he had taken a few muskrats, and from the sale 
 of the skins, which brought but a few pennies 
 each, he had purchased such lines and hooks as 
 he had. 
 
 That money, his aunt had promised him, should 
 be his to use as he wished. Matt was as yet but 
 little versed in the skill of the trapper, but later 
 in life, when the writer knew him well, he was a 
 past master of the art. 
 
 The following afternoon the two met on the 
 bridge, and this time went up stream instead of 
 down, as formerly. This led them to the mill 
 which, as was the custom in those days, embraced 
 both sawmill and flour grist mill, as it was then 
 termed. 
 
 Both being driven by the old type over-shot 
 wheel, the action of which, as well as the water 
 rushing through the gates from the pond above, 
 created a large and deep basin of water which 
 was always a favorite place for fishing for both 
 men and boys. 
 
 The lad had a stock of prepared worms. The 
 man had brought along a piece of beef as well as 
 a small slice of salt pork, and as they passed 
 through the meadow had succeeded in getting 
 some grasshoppers, which were put in a small tin 
 
 36 
 
CATFISH PHILOSOPHY 
 
 box. The box had some nail holes punched 
 through the lid to "give 'em air," as he said. 
 
 Here fishing was easy. The banks came well 
 down to the water's edge and shelved off rapidly, 
 so that deep water was within easy reach. It was 
 the work of but a short while for the lad to find 
 the parts of two broken boxes, and they were 
 soon made into comfortable seats, after which 
 two forked branches were pushed down into the 
 soft earth with forked ends up to receive the 
 poles as rests. 
 
 "Don't seem like it's much use to work for 
 anythin' but catties yet," remarked Matt, scru- 
 tinizing the water closely. "It's too muddy, an' 
 perch don't seem to eat much when it's like that. 
 Wonder why? Can't they see? It's funny," 
 he rambled on when they were seated, "how 
 men will — an' I watched 'em an' seen 'em 
 do it — string a worm solid through on a thick 
 hook, sometimes breakin' 'em all up, when if 
 they'd on'y loop 'em on two or three times 
 it's better. 
 
 "One man said the fish could see the hook an' 
 wouldn't bite, as if a fish thinks a thing out like 
 that; 'sides, don't I take 'em all the time that 
 way and more of 'em, too? They's some big pike 
 in here an' more above the dam, an' some day 
 we'll give 'em a go. Mr. Silver's got a boat, an' 
 I can have it any time if I give him some fish. 
 Oars is in the mill. He won't let me have it with 
 other boys; says they knock it about too much; 
 
 37 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 'sides, he says two boys are one too many to be 
 together any time." 
 
 Matt had brought along his two longest poles, 
 as the basin was wide, and it gave them more 
 chance for getting out to different points. Mr. 
 Woodhull had used pork for bait, cutting a long, 
 slim slice and put it well up on the hook. The 
 boy, using his favorite worms, remarked as Mr. 
 Woodhull put on the pork, "I've heard they'd 
 bite it, an' I know they'll eat pieces of chicken; 
 seen a man use it once, but what's the use when 
 the's plenty of worms? Salt pork, there don't 
 seem to be much about that they'd like." At this 
 point the man's cork went down quickly, and as 
 he struck the pole bent sharply and the line cut 
 the water at an angle, now this way, now that. 
 The tip of the pole finally touching the water, the 
 lad grew excited. "Gee!" he said, "you've got a 
 big he eel; but he scoots aroun' pretty fast for 
 that. Bet it's a pike, an' a buster." Slowly the 
 fish was brought around to the bank, and when 
 finally grassed it proved to be a catfish of fully 
 three pounds in weight. No matter how in earnest 
 or how much the boy became excited over some 
 unexpected catch, he was never boisterous. It is 
 true he had yelled when the mud-puppy was sent 
 close over his head, but, as he afterward said, 
 
 'Twas ugly enough to scare a blind sawbuck." 
 Matt was elated over the big catfish. "I told you 
 the big ones was here," he said. "Sometimes you 
 get 'em below, but not general," he added. 
 
 38 
 
CATFISH PHILOSOPHY 
 
 "Notice anything 'bout a catfish when you 
 bring it to the top of the water different from most 
 others?" he asked. As he strung the fish on a 
 stout string with a cross-stick at the end so as to 
 retain the catch, the man said he knew of no 
 peculiarity in that respect. "Well, keep your 
 eye on the next one, an' every one, an' you'll see 
 they alius come to the top belly up an' fight at 
 the top that way, if they get a chance an' are not 
 hossed right out like some do with 'em." 
 
 "Say," he continued, "some men fish here with 
 regular bean poles an' slat 'em out." Mr. Wood- 
 hull took three more on his pork bait before the 
 boy got a bite, although none as large as the first 
 one, which set up a query with the lad. 
 
 "Wonder if it's 'cause the water's thick an' 
 the pork shows white an' they see it better?" he 
 asked. "Shouldn't be s'prised, but 'nen what do 
 they do when the's no pork nor anythin' white 
 t'eat? Have to get it somehow. Guess again. 
 Matt," he said, as if to himself, and then became 
 thoughtful. He sat quite a while in deep thought, 
 then began: "I'd fish a lot nights, on'y Aunt 
 Mary ain't willin' I should. Says I might get 
 into some hole or place, or somethin' happen. 
 Catties bite a'most as well nights as daytime; so 
 do eels — better sometimes. I was thinkin'," he 
 continued, " 'bout when I could get some money 
 and buy a lot of hooks an' a big line. I could rig 
 up a set line for the pools an' here. Set 'em over 
 night, 'nen take 'em up first thing in the mornin*. 
 
 39 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 Bet I could get a lot, an' when I skin 'em they 
 sell good. Might help Aunt Mary some. Say, I 
 don't see no fun in it. I'd sooner take one on a 
 pole than a string that way. An' say," he added 
 suddenly, "how do you skin a catty?" His friend 
 admitted he was not good at it; in fact, the people 
 where he boarded did that, and were glad to have 
 the fish. "Why," said the boy, "it's just as easy," 
 with a strong emphasis on the last word. "I'll 
 show you if I get one at my hook." 
 
 Throwing out a fair-sized one, he at once 
 severed the spinal column, as described, with the 
 point of his knife, which at once rendered it help- 
 less, and finding a piece of board, laid the fish on 
 it. Putting his left hand on the head, he said: 
 "Now look. See, I start in behind the fin on the 
 back, cut clean through, 'nen come on clean up 
 to the place where I cut his backbone, 'nen go 
 right down with the knife to the skin on his 
 throat, 'nen hold the knife there solid an' pull 
 hard. See, on the head, an' off comes the skin 
 an' his insides come out at the same time. It's 
 easy. Gee! but a catty looks skimpy when his 
 head an' jacket's off. Aunt Mary's got a way of 
 cookin' fish what is good as ever. When they're 
 cleaned she puts them in salt and water, sometimes 
 over night, and then takes 'em out and wipes 'em 
 dry and puts some fat in the fryer and lets it get 
 good an' hot. 'Nen she puts the fish in, after 
 putting some crumbs on. Sometimes she sprinkles 
 crackers rolled fine an' when eggs are plenty she 
 
 40 
 
CATFISH PHILOSOPHY 
 
 put an egg over 'em. Gee! but I most taste 'em 
 now." 
 
 During the afternoon a buggy wagon drew into 
 the mill yard and a man, after going into the mill, 
 came down to where the two were fishing, carry- 
 ing a cloth case and a package and began talking 
 to Mr. Woodhull. He was very agreeable in 
 manner, and after seeing the fish, which were on 
 hand, asked if there was any objection on their 
 part about his fishing near them. 
 
 He said the miller had told him he was welcome 
 to fish where he wished, but did not want to in- 
 trude near them if they felt he should not do so. 
 Both were glad to have a companion, particularly 
 as he promised by his manner to be most sociable. 
 He produced from its cover a jointed bamboo rod 
 which, from its appearance, had seen much use, 
 though still in perfect order. A free-running reel 
 of medium size and good make was the next 
 produced. 
 
 This was a revelation to Matt, who had seen 
 nothing but the click reel as used by an occasional 
 trout fisherman he had met. As he watched the 
 first casts made and noticed how easy it seemed 
 for the stranger to place his tackle just where he 
 desired, his wonder knew no bounds. Matt found 
 a comfortable seat for him and they soon were 
 friends, the boy eagerly asking questions, which 
 were readily answered. 
 
 Mr. Woodhull was an equally interested party. 
 The man had purchased a property near by and 
 
 41 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 heard of the fishing in the chain of ponds and 
 creek running from them, and had taken this 
 opportunity to give it a trial. He was very glad 
 to meet someone who knew the different points 
 and the kinds of fish to be taken. 
 
 He had traveled extensively and had caught 
 fish in most of the States, particularly in the 
 Middle and Southern ones, and was fairly well ac- 
 quainted with many salt-water varieties. 
 
 The simple, earnest nature of the lad charmed 
 him, and the delicate appearance of Mr. Wood- 
 hull drew forth his sympathy, but he carefully 
 refrained from comment. Matt was waiting 
 eagerly to see a fish take the stranger's hook. He 
 was anxious to see how, with that comparatively 
 short rod and long line out, a fish might be hooked, 
 as he had cast to the farther side of the basin near 
 a patch of lily pads growing near the opposite 
 bank. 
 
 Soon the painted top float went down and the 
 man, as the quick eye of the lad noted, reeled in 
 until the line came fairly taut, then struck firmly 
 but not hard, and the bending, pliant rod gave 
 mute testimony that a fish was hooked. 
 
 The long line gave the fish full play and it ran 
 the entire length of the basin, then doubled and 
 back, all the time being worked nearer by the 
 shortening line until it was drawn to the bank, then 
 lifted out and laid on the grass. It was a nice 
 exhibition of the fisherman's skill, and the boy 
 was meditative. He was quick to ofler advice as 
 
 4^ 
 
CATFISH PHILOSOPHY 
 
 to the safe method of unhooking the fish, but 
 noticed with pride that his method was well known 
 to their friend. 
 
 "Catfish," he began, as he ran out his long 
 cast again, "are among the most interesting of 
 our common fishes. 
 
 "The family is a large one, and where any are 
 found they are usually plentiful, as they multiply 
 rapidly. They will eat almost any kind of meat, 
 as well as bits offish. 
 
 "In running streams where the water is clear 
 they take the minnow readily and are harder 
 fighters. In such waters they are usually white 
 on the under side. They usually have more 
 pointed heads, but," he added, "I have taken 
 both kinds in muddy waters, and I think, as do 
 most people, that there are two distinct kinds of 
 the common catfish. 
 
 "They, too, have the peculiar habit of carrying 
 in their mouths and gill openings their eggs just 
 before they hatch out, and the mother fish may 
 be seen with the little wrigglers all about her 
 head, looking like a small cloud in the water." 
 
 "Gee!" said the now thoroughly interested boy, 
 "I thought they somehow set on 'em like a hen." 
 The man laughed at this whimsical turn and 
 continued: "I have seen them very large in the 
 Mississippi River down below where the Ohio 
 empties into it, much over one hundred pounds 
 in weight." Matt straightened up and looked at 
 Mr. WoodhuU as if to see how he stood the story, 
 
 43 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 then with his pecuHar "Gee! that's bigger'n me," 
 watched the stranger as he walked down the 
 bank to loosen his line from a bush where it had 
 caught and turned to Mr. Woodhull with: "Won- 
 der if he's stringin' us? Catfish carryin' eggs 
 round in their mouths; some weighing more'n a 
 hundred pounds." 
 
 Mr. W'oodhuU said he had heard the same be- 
 fore and had read of the very large catfish to be 
 found in the Southern rivers. Here was corrob- 
 orative proof from a source he did not question, 
 and he sat pensively digging his toe into the 
 bank, as was his custom when perplexed. 
 
 The stranger, whose name was Adams, resumed 
 his seat and was much amused at Matt's in- 
 credulity, for well he knew what was working in 
 the boy's mind. "I once helped take some of the 
 largest ones I ever saw down near Louisiana," he 
 continued. "W^e took them with gallon jugs 
 and — " "For bait?" almost yelled Matt, and 
 the look of incredulity on his face was a study, 
 while the two men roared with laughter. 
 
 The lad got up from his box, leaving his pole 
 resting in the crotched stick and hook lying on 
 the bank, and threw a stone at a catbird which 
 was sending out its taunting cries from a cluster 
 of alders across the basin, then walked slowly 
 back and resumed his fishing without a word. 
 "Oh, no," said Mr. Adams, "we used the jugs tor 
 floats. Just tied the proper length of line to the 
 handle of the jug, for no matter when or where 
 
 44 
 
-5 
 
 
CATFISH PHILOSOPHY 
 
 you fish for catfish you must fish near the bottom. 
 Then we set the jugs adrift in a bayou." "What's 
 them?" said the boy. "Why, a bayou," repHed 
 Mr. Adams, "is where the water flows back into 
 the country from the river into a sort of basin, 
 and has but httle if any current. In such places 
 are to be found the largest fish and many kinds 
 besides catfish. Then we would row back to the 
 shore and watch the jugs. When one began bob- 
 bing around we knew a catfish was at the bait; 
 then when it would start off, going completely 
 under sometimes, we knew it was hooked and 
 would row out, draw it to the surface and stun it 
 with a club, then tow it to the shore." The boy's 
 only comment was "Oh." Keeping his eyes 
 steadily out on the water, he quietly asked: 
 "Mr. Adams, did you ever catch a mud-puppy?" 
 The look on the latter's face was a puzzle as to 
 whether the boy was trying to joke him or not. 
 Finally he said: "No, I never did. What are they 
 like?" "Why, Mister, hke nothing at all in the 
 world 'cept 'tarnation. What things like that 
 were made for beats me," and he proceeded to 
 describe as best he could the freak which Mr. 
 Woodhull had swung so disagreeably near his 
 head. He finally grasped the boy's meaning, and 
 said he had seen them in an aquarium. That 
 they were termed hellbenders there, and were 
 among the lowest order of animated creatures. 
 "There is another catfish," continued Adams, 
 "which is much esteemed in Southern rivers, 
 
 45 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 called the channel cat, because it is rarely or 
 never found except in swiftly moving waters. It 
 is a hard-fighting fish on the line and much sought 
 after by anglers. It sometimes reaches a weight 
 of ten pounds, and is good eating. As a matter of 
 fact, all the catfish tribe are good fish, and if a 
 little study is given to their preparation for the 
 table many of them are really delicious. Millions 
 of pounds are caught and sold annually through- 
 out the Middle and Southern States, and yet there 
 seems to be no diminution of the supply. I wish 
 I could say as much favorably of the salt-water 
 varieties, of which there are two distinct kinds. 
 Where so many choice fish abound they are gen- 
 erally regarded as a pest by the angler and are 
 but little esteemed for the table." 
 
 Each had all the fish they desired, the sun was 
 working well down in the west, and they decided 
 to call it a day and go home. Mr. Adams thanked 
 them for the points given him as to where to go 
 for different kinds of fish, and they in turn thank- 
 ing him for his information. "Gee!" observed 
 Matt, as he ran the end of his pole in the runway 
 of a meadow mouse to see if the rodent was at 
 home, "he sure does know a heap about catfish." 
 
 Thus another day of quiet enjoyment was ac- 
 complished and the boy and the man turned 
 homeward with satisfaction in their hearts with 
 nature's ways. 
 
 46 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 Ways of the Perch 
 
 "M-A-T-T-i-E," called a voice from the back 
 door of the cottage several mornings after the 
 catfish excursion. Then receiving no answer, 
 "H-o Matt," again sounded the voice. "All 
 right," came back from somewhere in the rear of 
 the woodshed, "be there in a minute," and shortly 
 after he came around through a back gate in a 
 perturbed condition of mind, judging from his 
 facial expression. He was bareheaded, and, as 
 usual, barefooted. His hair was tousled and 
 streaks of dust covered his face. "Beats all," he 
 began as soon as he faced his aunt, who had called 
 him. "Seems 'ough somebody's been rummagin' 
 all over our shed. Things are gone which was 
 there on'y a day or two ago. The fly net what 
 Mr. Stillwell gave me's gone an' the tin blickey's 
 disappeared, too. Seen any boys moochin' 
 'round?" he queried. "No, I ain't," replied the 
 aunt shortly. "For land's sake wash your face 
 and eat your breakfast. I've been waiting more 
 than half an hour. You look like a chimney 
 sweep." The aunt, ordinarily quite correct of 
 speech, had a habit of dropping into the ver- 
 nacular of the period when a trifle upset in mind. 
 "What about the fly net?" she asked. "Well, it's 
 
 47 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 gone," he pouted; "don't seem like anybody'd 
 want it 'cept for what I did; anyhow 'twas mine." 
 "I guess what's around here will be used for 
 what's thought best without asking questions," 
 said the aunt with some asperity. "Anyhow, the 
 net is of no use as I can see, except where it is. 
 I put it over the bed you fixed for my celery 
 plants. If you'd looked there you'd a seen it." 
 "You'll alius mostly see things if you look where 
 they be," he returned in a semi-rebellious tone, 
 then realizing from the look on his aunt's face 
 that a truce from his side of the firing line was 
 much the safer course, said in greatly mollified 
 tones, "We'll fix something there what's as 
 good." "I cal'late that old net will stay where I 
 put it," she returned firmly, "and that about ends 
 it. Cats or pigeons would have the ground 
 scratched up in no time, likely, and the seeds with 
 it. Besides, what on earth do you want it for?" 
 "Mr. Woodhull wanted to use it; said he had been 
 lookin' for somethin' like it for some time; wants 
 to make somethin' out of it." The boy carefully 
 refrained from mentioning anything about fish or 
 fishing at this critical period. The truth was, the 
 two had decided that if something of the sort 
 could be procured, by splitting a sapling part 
 way down or find a properly branched one, a 
 serviceable landing net might be constructed. 
 That was the thing needed when in quest of perch 
 or pickerel, particularly when fishing from a 
 boat. This was what he had in view when he 
 
 48 
 
I 
 
 WAYS OF THE PE_RCH 
 
 begged the discarded, rather fine mesh fly net 
 from their neighbor. By mentioning Mr. Wood- 
 hull's name he thought that there might be a 
 chance for surrender on the part of Aunt Mary 
 in one way or another. If so, there was no indi- 
 cation, judging from her manner at the con- 
 clusion of the meal. Diplomatic relations, how- 
 ever, must be opened. The mind of Matt was 
 busy and fully absorbed by it when he took down 
 the hoe and proceeded to the garden to do some 
 necessary weeding. 
 
 Aunt Mary was busy with her household work, 
 and perhaps an hour had passed when, glancing 
 through the open window, she saw Matt busily 
 measuring the ground over which the net was 
 drawn and making sundry marks with the stub 
 of a lead pencil on the handle of his rake. She 
 said nothing and went on with her work, but 
 later, needing his help for something, she called 
 to him without looking out. Receiving no answer, 
 she stepped to the door, but the lad was nowhere 
 in sight. Then with a firm step and manner she 
 proceeded to the shed where Matt was wont to 
 spend much of his time among his much-loved 
 poles and other trappings. He was not there, 
 and a glance among his poles told her he had not 
 gone fishing; in fact, he never did that without 
 consulting her. But his spirit, as well as her own, 
 was a trifle rufiled, and her stand about the net 
 should be maintained. She was about to enter 
 the house when, glancing down the road which 
 4 49 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 led up from the woods below, she saw Matt com- 
 ing, part carrying, part dragging something which 
 raised quite a dust as it trailed along. "What, 
 for land's sake, have you got now?" she queried, 
 as he came through the gate trailing a stretch of 
 chicken wire behind him. She noticed it was 
 close-meshed and pretty badly crumpled up. 
 "I'm goin' to nail this up to the back fence," he 
 answered, as he busied himself straightening the 
 mess out. 'The's cat tracks all over the garden, 
 an' they get in where the wide slats is. What 
 calls 'em in there I do' know. You can see 'em 
 all over," he said, as the two walked down the 
 garden path. And, true enough, the tracks were 
 plainly to be seen in the mellow earth. Aunt 
 Mary viewed with satisfaction but without com- 
 ment the neat work the boy had made earlier in 
 the day, hoeing the vegetables, after which the 
 rake had smoothed all. "Now look there," she 
 said, as she came to her cherished celery plants. 
 "Something's throwed the net part off. Alaybe 
 it's the wind," and she threw the disturbed por- 
 tion back to its original position. "I must lay 
 something on it, or if it was heavier," she said, 
 "I think it would be better. I believe a piece of 
 that chicken wire you have dug up from the dump 
 heap will be just the thing." "T'wont more'n 
 reach the stretch of back fence as it is now without 
 cuttin' it," said Matt stoutly; "don't seem to be 
 no sense in cuttin' it in two." Aunt Mary made 
 no reply, but began taking measurements of the 
 
 50 
 
Aunt Marv and Mate in warm discussion 
 
WAYS OF THE PERCH 
 
 plot of ground which, had she known it, was 
 quite unnecessary, as she would have found by 
 consulting the pencil marks on the handle of the 
 rake. It was not more than three by five feet, 
 just enough to start the celery plants from the 
 seed for trenching later on. After which she 
 straightened an ample section of the wire netting 
 and with a heavy pair of shears began clipping 
 the cross section. She soon had a piece evidently 
 to her liking. Proceeding down the path, she 
 took up the net and handed it to Matt without a 
 word, and the two laid the wire on, evidently 
 much to the lady's satisfaction and triumph, 
 Matt going to the shed, where, as soon as out of 
 sight, he became convulsed with laughter, bring- 
 ing first one knee nearly up to his chin, then the 
 other, and slapping them alternately with his 
 hands as he did so. "Gosh!" he said under his 
 breath, "she never once tumbled." 
 
 Seldom is it in the controversies of life that 
 both sides can claim a signal victory. But each 
 had that piece of chicken wire exactly where each 
 wanted it, and Matt had saved his precious net. 
 Whether or not a flaw of wind had folded back a 
 portion of the net or a deft turn of the hoe handle 
 had prepared it for Aunt Mary's observation, 
 history perhaps will never record. 
 
 The mid-day meal was scarcely over when Mr. 
 Woodhull put in appearance. There was an ap- 
 preciable change in the man. His step was more 
 elastic and firm and a tinge of tan was on his face. 
 
 51 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 Fresh milk and eggs, as well as the country air 
 and sunshine, were working their silent miracle 
 and his soul was glad. His greeting was pleasant 
 and his reception most cordial. Matt placed a 
 rocking chair for him in the shade of the morning- 
 glory vines which clambered in confusion about 
 the porch. "Well, my boy," he said, "how about 
 the perch? I went down to the pond yesterday 
 and stayed until after dinner time. I had some 
 worms and I caught some grasshoppers, but I 
 didn't get any fish." "Shucks!" said Matt. 
 "Nobody can't do nothing with perch in the 
 middle of the day, 'cept when it's rainin' or real 
 cloudy; 'sides, they want fishin' for close up to 
 where some bushes is or close to a bank. When 
 you find where a wash-down comes from a field 
 an' the's gravel plenty, where the water goes off 
 real deep, it's the best place ever, though why I 
 do' know. But to make sure to get 'em, take a 
 cloudy day an' late an' then on to dark, usin' 
 worms or minnies, 'nen if you're in the right pond 
 you get 'em. The's two kinds of perch in the pond 
 above the dam. Two, meb'e three, years ago 
 some men come down here with big cans and 
 turned a lot loose, yellow perch they said. They've 
 got black stripes on 'em run up an' down, not 
 long ways. T'other kind, the white ones, alius 
 have been here, I guess. I never heard no differ- 
 ent." Mr. Woodhull smiled at Matt's quaint 
 manner of description, then said: "I met Mr. 
 Adams this morning, and he wants to go with us 
 
 5^ 
 
WAYS OF THE PERCH 
 
 some time, as he is very fond of this kind of fish- 
 ing. They've been getting some new lines and 
 hooks at the store. Mr. Adams wanted a line 
 for his reel, and I bought this spool. There's 
 enough on it for a good many lines to use on a 
 pole," and he showed the lad his purchase. 
 Matt's eyes went wide open. He had never used 
 any but the heavier cotton lines, and he looked 
 doubtfully at the slender thread-like line. "Might's 
 well use a spider web," he said. "A big pike'd 
 smash it quicker'n scat." "Try it," said his 
 friend. And Matt did try, first by a pull which 
 he thought suflicient to break it, then up across 
 his breast, finally wrapping it around both hands 
 and puUing until the line was deeply imbedded 
 in the flesh, but it did not break. "Gee!" he 
 said, "what's it made of? Cuts like wire." Mr. 
 Woodhull explained that it was made from Irish 
 flax, the best possible material for a Hne. 
 
 Matt's stock of poles underwent a strong in- 
 spection that day. Two of the very lightest were 
 selected for use in their coming "perch" excursion. 
 The "tin blicky," as Matt termed the tin pail, 
 had been taken by Aunt Mary for watering the 
 chickens. It had been found in the little village 
 dump-heap as a discard, and was of good size for 
 a "five bait" pail. Though battered, it did not 
 leak, and the dents, as Matt afterward said, were 
 like his freckles, "while they didn't help none, 
 wasn't in nobody's way." The boy was by far 
 too good a judge of matters to suggest a substi- 
 
 53 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 tute for the pail. The net incident had been a 
 victory, and now the least sHp in diplomacy in 
 the way of getting his pail when he needed it 
 might be the signal for the verdict to let that pail 
 stay right where it was. 
 
 Such decisions must not be construed as stub- 
 bornness on the aunt's part. It was discipline 
 and keeping her house in order. 
 
 A visit to the swamp nearby had resulted in 
 finding what man and boy had agreed would 
 make a proper landing net frame in the shape of 
 a forked birch. It was cut and smoothly trimmed, 
 the two ends being brought around and secured 
 to a cross section of stick, making a neat oval. 
 While not as perfect as the ones seen in the tackle 
 store, still it could be made effective, they thought, 
 and that was sufficient. Carefully the fly net had 
 been gone over and a section cut which would be 
 ample for their purpose, allowing a proper bag for 
 the retention of fish, once they were taken in. 
 
 Matt had sacrificed a stout line for use in 
 whipping the net to the frame, and their heads 
 were close together as, seated on the grass, they 
 wove the fine, first through the mesh and then 
 around the frame. As a boy the man had had a 
 love for the great out-doors, but now it was taking 
 hold in a different manner. God's sunshine 
 through woods and meadow was giving him life. 
 Besides, he was fast imbibing the spirit of the 
 healthy country boy, whose enthusiasm was con- 
 tagious. "This birch from the swanijis is good 
 
 54 
 
WAYS OF THE PERCH 
 
 and tough," said Mr. Woodhull, as the lashing-on 
 process was finished and he was bending a little 
 here and there on the frame to make it a little 
 more trim in form. "Gosh, yes!" returned Matt, 
 "so tough I've wish't more'n once't it never'd 
 growed. Aunt Mary's handed it to me sometimes 
 a-plenty," and looking up both saw that person- 
 age regarding their work in a quiet manner, her 
 elbows resting on the fence. Matt grinned a 
 little, Woodhull laughed outright, and /\unt 
 Mary said: "I reckon you never got more'n 
 what's healthy." While never commenting on it, 
 it was a source of pride with her to have the boy 
 in the company of men of clean habits and mind 
 and not seeking the comradeship of coarser 
 characters. While privileged to go almost at 
 will, parts of days, to the pond and creeks, still 
 an all-day's trip such as was contemplated with 
 the perch was a different matter. It had been 
 decided between the two that Mr. Woodhull was 
 to ask concession in the boy's behalf. The time 
 seemed propitious and the subject was finally 
 broached. "Land sakes!" was the response, "it 
 would seem that two grown men might know 
 more about such things and not have a slip of a 
 boy toddle along to show 'em, but," and her ar- 
 gument unconsciously carried a note of pride at 
 his accomplishments, "his work must all be done 
 first." Mr. Woodhull was far too diplomatic to 
 argue against any possible point of the aunt's 
 view of the matter other than to show her that 
 
 55 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 the lad's knowledge of fish and their ways was 
 far superior to his own. 
 
 Matt sat without a word during the conversa- 
 tion, digging his toe into the ground, as was his 
 wont when thoughtful, and, as he afterward said, 
 "If I'd said a word about how I knowed where 
 and when fish was, mos' like she'd said it was 
 owin' to her a-bringin' me up." With delight the 
 boy saw Mr. Woodhull fit up the two poles with 
 the fine line which he had brought down, and he 
 promised to see that the worms were in proper 
 condition when the great day arrived, which 
 really came on the third one from the day of the 
 making of the landing net. 
 
 Matt had met Mr. Adams at the store on the 
 evening before, and as it gave promise of unsettled 
 weather it was agreed, if the conditions con- 
 tinued, to meet on the bridge the following morn- 
 ing at an early hour. Mr. x'\dams was to notify 
 Mr. Woodhull. Matt, while doing his evening 
 chores, came suddenly face to face with his bait 
 pail doing service to the chickens. "Crickey!" he 
 said; "it went plum out'en my mind. Now most 
 anythin's good enough for chicken drinkin', but 
 Aunt Mary's Aunt Mary, an' the's no tellin' what 
 she'll say." He scratched his head reflectively. 
 
 Before it was fully light the next morning she 
 heard Matt in his room, then going lightly down- 
 stairs. By the time his work was done and he was 
 back in the house breakfast was ready, much to 
 his delight. "1 was thinkin'," he began as he 
 
 56 
 
WAYS OF THE PERCH 
 
 drank the last of his coffee, "that bein' out all day 
 I'd best take some old thing to put fish in, a'most 
 anythin'll do. Perch scale mighty hard when they 
 dry out; b'sides they're fresher if wet moss or 
 grass is kept on 'em. I s'pose the old 'tin blickey' 
 I brought up for the chickens would do." 
 
 "You never brought that old tin pail up for 
 chickens more'n I did," she snapped back. Matt 
 felt a tremor of doubt about the success of his 
 plan. "But," continued his aunt, "whatever you 
 did bring it from the old dump-heap for, goodness 
 knows. I s'pose fish are better if kept wet. I 
 expect I can find something to answer for a day. 
 But," she added, "you ain't catched your fish 
 yet to put in the pail." Matt vouchsafed no reply, 
 but put on his coat. "In case it rains," he said. 
 Aunt Mary handed him a package which was 
 lying on the table, saying, "You'll want a bite to 
 eat if you stay all day." Gathering up his trap- 
 pings, he set off for the bridge with a light heart. 
 
 He was not kept waiting, as both men were in 
 sight of the bridge as he reached it. Minnows 
 were plentiful near the mill, in shallow water, 
 where they hovered safe from their numerous 
 enemies, and Matt's "tin blickey" was at last in 
 service as a minnow pail, after the lad had sorted 
 them over as to the right "perch size." Mr. 
 Adams insisted on rowing the boat. Matt direct- 
 ing the course until they were well up to the head 
 of the stream, where snags and lily pads were 
 plentiful. 
 
 57 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 "We'll try once here," said Matt. "I've took 
 good ones from around here. The's big ones in 
 this pond if you'll find 'em. I'll change the water 
 on the minnies. Don't want 'em to turn belly 
 up; they're weak when they do that." 
 
 The boy poured a quantity of water from the 
 pail, then, scooping with both hands, threw fresh 
 water back. "I do it that way," he said; "seems 
 to give 'em more air; anyhow they come to 
 quicker." Mr. Adams had a lighter rod and 
 smaller reel than on the previous day. The boy 
 noticed it, but said nothing. 
 
 When ready to adjust their hooks Mr. Adams 
 presented the other two with snelled New York 
 trout hooks. It was the first the boy had ever 
 seen, and he examined closely the neat wrappings 
 and tied loop. Finally he asked, "What's that 
 made of?" indicating the snell. "That is gut," 
 said his friend, meanwhile watching, out of the 
 corner of his eye, the expression which came over 
 the lad's face. "Whose?" laconically exclaimed 
 Matt, and said not another word. He felt he was 
 being joked about the matter. Both men laughed 
 heartily, and then Mr. x^dams explained the 
 mystery of the silk worm gut, at which he seemed 
 first doubtful, then pleased. Mr. WoodhuU used 
 worm bait; the other two, minnows. Matt hook- 
 ing his lightly through the lips, while the older 
 man hooked his through the skin just under the 
 fin on the back, Matt contending that perch 
 "alius took minnies head first," and was surer to 
 
 58 
 
WAYS OF THE PERCH 
 
 be hooked his way. While bottle corks were used 
 by both Mr. Woodhull and Matt, Mr. Adams 
 had a slender painted float, which, with the light 
 sinker he used, balanced nicely in the water. 
 Mr. Woodhull got several bites on the worm bait, 
 the cork bobbing along on the water. "The's 
 sunnies," said Matt. "Better fish over where the 
 water's deeper. There's a perch," he said quickly, 
 as Mr. Adams' float went down. "They never 
 nibble; they jest grab it an' scoot. The white 
 ones do; the yellow fellers are some slower, but 
 fight hard." The lad watched with keen interest 
 as Mr. Adams worked the fish around the boat 
 on the slender rod and finally boated it without 
 the aid of a net. It was of about a half pound 
 weight and nicely silvered in the clear water. 
 The atmosphere was heavy and threatened rain. 
 Both men had light rain coats with them, but 
 Matt had but little concern for himself if fish 
 would bite. Up to noon, when they rowed to the 
 bank to eat their lunch, not more than a dozen 
 fish had been taken, and all much of the same size 
 as the first one taken by Mr. Adams. "I've alius 
 seen," said the boy, "that perch are 'bout the 
 same size in one place. Wonder if they're just 
 the same nestful goes together? Seems 'ough it 
 might be so. I found a lot of stuff once looked 
 mos' like jelly on a stick. Mr. Silvers, the man 
 at the mill, said 'twas perch eggs all stuck to- 
 gether." "Perch," said Mr. Adams, "are widely 
 distributed all over the world. I have taken 
 
 59 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 them from many waters, and they are a fine game 
 fish for their size. They will bite at a great 
 variety of baits, but in salt water they are partial 
 to shrimps." "I never knowed they went into 
 salt water," said Matt earnestly. "Oh, yes," re- 
 sponded Mr. x'\dams, "I have seen tons of them 
 that were taken in nets in the bays at different 
 points, and they have been found with herrings in 
 the open ocean, although I hav^e never heard of the 
 yellow perch being anywhere but in fresh water. 
 
 "To keep our shrimps alive we get very fine saw- 
 dust and cover them. They live well, sometimes 
 two days or even longer. The Delaware River 
 fairly swarms with them, and great quantities are 
 taken there every year. 
 
 "Around old piling or patches of lily pads, 
 anywhere where the current is not swift, they are 
 to be found. They will bite at almost any kind 
 of bait there, bits of clam cut up, fish worms, or 
 live minnows, but their favorite is always shrimp. 
 And it is strange, when I think of it, I have never 
 seen as large ones from salt water as from lakes 
 or ponds like this." "Well, the's big ones in here 
 if we can find 'em," said Matt, "an' we'll try 
 t'other side of the pond. The's a wash-down 
 from a hill there by the big oak an' a gravel point 
 runs out to deep water." Matt, standing up in 
 the boat as they went across, as he said, "to get 
 the p'ints." "The's never no sense," he said, 
 "sloshin' 'round in the water when fishin' for 
 perch. They scare easy. There, don't pull no 
 
 60 
 
WAYS OF THE PERCH 
 
 more; jest let the boat swim in herself." And 
 quietly lowering the weight overboard which 
 served as an anchor, they came to rest. Matt 
 had changed the water several times on the min- 
 nows, and they were active in the pail. 
 
 From where they sat they could plainly see 
 the gravel where it had been washed down into 
 the water, and they began fishing in the deep 
 water nearby. "The stiller we keep the better, as 
 we are in the open here," observed Mr. Adams. 
 "As Matt says, they scare easily sometimes." 
 "I told you the big ones was here," said Matt, 
 as his float went under with a rush and the whip- 
 like pole went double and the hne cut the water 
 around the boat. "G'mme the net." But sud- 
 denly the pole went straight again and float and 
 hook sprang up in the air. "Gosh a'mighty, he's 
 gone!" said the boy. "He's an' old buster." And 
 he examined the hook critically, as if to find some 
 fault there. With hook again in the water, if a 
 close watch had been made on his movements it 
 would have been seen that he never permitted 
 his rig to be completely at rest; just a slight move- 
 ment with tip of rod was kept up, and it was not 
 long before "There she goes again" was heard, 
 and again the pole was double and an excited boy 
 was swinging first one way, then another, keeping 
 a taut line on the hooked fish. "Git the net," he 
 said, and for the first time their improvised net 
 was brought into use and, as Mr. Woodhull said, 
 it worked Hke a charm. Matt added "Good as a 
 
 6i 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 boughten one." The perch was a beauty, at 
 least one and a half pounds in weight and beau- 
 tifully marked. Matt was triumphant. "As big 
 as ever I catched," he said. In the confusion and 
 admiration of the fish other tackle was for a mo- 
 ment forgotten, and of a sudden Mr. WoodhuU's 
 reel screeched and the light rod went overboard 
 with a rush, but was caught just as the butt 
 struck the water, and such a battle as that little 
 rod had! Skillful handling, however, saved the 
 day and the fighting fish was brought to the net, 
 a mate for Matt's. "Now," said the latter, 
 "don't thrash around in the boat none, and we'll 
 get some." It was a great catch of beautiful fish 
 they made that day and one long remembered by 
 the three and often talked over. A few large 
 yellow perch were taken just before dusk, as they 
 moved away from where they had taken the 
 white ones, the first being taken by Mr. Wood- 
 hull, who was trolling his bait behind the boat. 
 They halted and fished the grounds over. The 
 strike could be told easily as being slower, but the 
 fighting quality was equal to the one put up by 
 their silvery cousins. Mr. WoodhuU soon gave 
 up the use of worms and used minnows, keeping 
 his end of the boat well represented. 
 
 Just as they were quitting — in fact, both Mr. 
 Adams and Matt had their tackle put up — Mr. 
 Woodhull received a strike which sent a thrill 
 through them all, the line cutting the water at all 
 angles and with a speed that was phenomenal. 
 
 62 
 
WAYS OF THE PERCH 
 
 The pliant pole was doubled sidewise and all 
 shapes, as Matt said. Then a pickerel of at least 
 five pounds leaped into the air and was off like 
 a flash. "Gosh a'mighty, what a pike!" yelled 
 Matt. 'T knowed the's big ones here. Pity you 
 had on a little hook. I seen a man catch one 
 right over there one day, weighed six pounds and 
 a half. Applegate, his name was; we called him 
 Gentleman John. He was alius dressed up like a 
 dude. I've seen him fishin' in the rain with a 
 plug hat on. Say, it looked funny," and Matt 
 giggled. The more the two men were with the lad 
 the more they were impressed with his sterling 
 worth. Uncouth as he was and often unkeiiipt, 
 there was ever with him the impress of sincerity 
 and never a trace of vulgarity. 
 
 He was ever quick to see the humorous side of 
 a matter, and generally had a quaint quip to 
 help the matter along. 
 
 "When the water cools down some we'll go 
 pikin' over these ponds some day, an' if we don't 
 find 'em in one we will in t'other. Seems 'ough 
 they go over a dam when the water's runnin' 
 plenty. Wonder if they do.''" continued Matt. 
 
 Good-nights were said, but not until they had 
 seen that Mr. Silvers, the owner of the mill and 
 boat, had a liberal supply of fish. Then each 
 passed on to their respective domiciles. 
 
 "Nor let the Muse in her award of fame ^ 
 Illustrious Perch, unnoticed -pass thy claim.^' 
 
 63 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 Catching and Spearing Suckers 
 
 Near the town of S , in Central New Jersey, 
 
 there runs a tiny stream of water. At that point 
 it is not more than four feet wide, but is very 
 active, being a spring-fed stream. Its course is 
 due east and runs on through what has for gen- 
 erations been known as the Great Meadows and 
 Turkey Swamp. Perhaps not a half mile of its 
 course but is augmented by other streams flowing 
 into it, until it assumes the dignity of a creek 
 about five miles from its source. It comprises 
 the drainage system of a large section of wild as 
 well as good farming land along its course. At 
 the time written of there were seven flourishing 
 flour and sawmills receiving power from the 
 stream, supplying the needs of a thrifty and pop- 
 ulous community. Below these the stream 
 broadens out and is known as Manasquan River, 
 which has always been productive of much fish 
 life and a favorite resort for anglers. 
 
 The little hamlet where Matt lived with his 
 aunt had suffered under several rather lugubrious 
 names, such as Spattown, Fiddlers Green, and 
 Buckshutem. There were but few houses and 
 one small country store, and for many years it 
 knew no change either in numbers or appearance. 
 
 64 
 
CATCHING SUCKERS 
 
 The store, as in all such places, was the meeting- 
 place in the evenings of men as well as of larger 
 boys, and gossip complimentary and otherwise 
 was rife concerning neighborhood affairs. 
 
 The evening following the perch-fishing expedi- 
 tion Matt had been sent to the store for some 
 commodity, carrying a small basket of eggs with 
 which to pay for his purchases. Seated on a box 
 in the store was a boy named Southard, older 
 and much larger than Matt, who was at times 
 inclined to be quarrelsome and something of a 
 bully. "Gettin' a little high and mighty with 
 your fishin', ain't ye. Matt?" he asked as the boy 
 came through the door. "Seems if men wouldn't 
 want a freckle-face taggin' along with 'em, any- 
 how. Ketched any suckers yet.^" "No, I ain't," 
 came the answer with some spirit. "I ain't tried 
 yet; didn't know you'd bite." This witty sally 
 was greeted with a roar of laughter by all present 
 except Southard, who, quick as a flash, kicked the 
 basket from the hand of Matt, sending the eggs 
 in all directions. For a moment the boy stood 
 aghast, then grabbing with both hands the curly 
 hair of his tormentor, he sent his head back with 
 a wicked thump against the counter. Both went' 
 to the floor snarling hke a pair of cats. Matt hold- 
 ing Hke grim death to the locks of his antagonist. 
 Strong hands, however, soon separated the com- 
 batants, and Matt, crestfallen at his misfortune, 
 stood looking ruefully at the wreckage. 
 
 His mental vision instantly conjuring up Aunt 
 
 6 65 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 Mary and her wrath, for well he knew how hard 
 it would be to convince her of his exact part in 
 the affair. The storekeeper was naturally angry- 
 over the melee, soundly berating the larger boy 
 for his attack and not altogether excusing Matt 
 for his pertness of speech. The two boys were 
 compelled to clean up the debris. 
 
 "How many eggs did you have, and what were 
 you sent for?" he asked a little shortly, his mind 
 being still in a trifle rufiled condition. Matt told 
 him, and counting the unbroken eggs, he pro- 
 ceeded to tie up the articles wanted and put them 
 into Matt's basket. "Fm going to put the balance 
 of this matter in your father's account," he said, 
 turning to the larger boy, "an' when he asks me 
 about it I'll tell him the whole story." "He 
 called me a sucker an' — " "I didn't call you no 
 sucker," broke in Matt sharply. "I said I didn't 
 know if you'd bite like one, but you did." Here 
 was open rebellion again. The boys stood glaring 
 at each other. Suddenly Southard turned on his 
 heel and without another word strode from the 
 store. Matt lingered for a few minutes, then 
 went out. Instead of going the usual way, he 
 cut across an apple orchard back of the store, 
 then down a hedge which grew along a back lot 
 and so home. Meanwhile he had kept ears and 
 eyes open for sight or sound of his enemy, for 
 well he knew, as he expressed it, a "wallopin' was 
 waitin' for him, an' he didn't know as he wanted 
 to be trimmed." Before going into the house he 
 
 66 
 
CATCHING SUCKERS 
 
 sat down on the woodpile and reviewed the whole 
 affair. x\t first he thought he would say nothing 
 to his aunt about it, but then he reflected that it 
 was sure to reach her ears somehow, and he de- 
 termined to tell her all, just as it happened. 
 Aunt Mary was sitting on the porch, for the 
 evening was warm. She had seen him when he 
 went to the woodpile, but had not called to him. 
 "Seems like it took you a mortal while just to 
 go to the store," she remarked, as he sat down 
 on the edge of the porch floor and shoved the 
 basket back of him. "Well," he said, "it's warm 
 an' I didn't hurry none." Then, after a pause: 
 " 'Sides that I had a fight." Aunt Mary's feet 
 came down with a thump and she sat bolt up- 
 right in her chair. "Matt Buckley!" she said with 
 energy. "Has it got so you can't go to the store 
 without gitten' twisted into a snarl with some- 
 body over the land knows what?" "I guess if 
 somebody kicked a basket of eggs plum' outen' 
 your hand 'thout cause you'd a twisted into a 
 snarl, too," he answered. " 'Sides that, 'twas 
 your eggs I fit over." Then he told her his story, 
 and how the storekeeper had charged the value 
 of the broken eggs to Southard's father. "I 
 won't have nothin' o' mine charged to no- 
 body," she answered wrathfully, "just account 
 of plain onriness." "Well, 'tain't no fault of 
 mine 'cause it's charged," said Matt. "If you'd 
 a seen them eggs go whizzin' all over the store 
 you'd a thought somebody must pay for 'em 
 
 67 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 'sides me." x'\nd the boy walked into the house 
 and on to bed. 
 
 "I was up to the store this morning," said the 
 aunt, "and found out about them eggs," as iNIatt 
 returned from an errand to a distant neighbor 
 just before noon the next day. "You ain't blamed 
 much, 'cept your tongue was pert." "I never 
 had a sucker bite yet that I didn't yank," said 
 Matt quietly, "an' alius 'spect to." "I seen Mr. 
 Woodhull in the store," continued his aunt, 
 "and he said he was comin' over after dinner, 
 but what he keeps taggin' after a boy all the time 
 for beats me." "That kind o' talk started a fight 
 once," said Matt with a twinkle in his eye. Aunt 
 Mary laughed and the boy giggled. "Anyways 
 when he first come here he looked so white and 
 pinched up I kind a wanted to help him, and I 
 ain't objected none to you goin' with him. I felt 
 some out-of-doors would do him good." "Now 
 lissen to that, will you?" said the boy to himself 
 as he went out to the shed. "Aunt Mary's curin' 
 of him by not stoppin' me from goin' fishin'. 
 Gosh, but she's got notions!" 
 
 "You'll find him out by the shed," she said to 
 Mr. Woodhull, after a few minutes' conversation 
 in the afternoon. "He's tinkerin' at something." 
 He found the boy busily engaged in fastening a 
 fish spear into the end of a maple pole about ten 
 feet long. He was driving a ring or ferrule down 
 so as to hold it firmly in place, and did not see 
 his friend until he was close to him. He was per- 
 
 68 
 
CATCHING SUCKERS 
 
 spiring freely and his hat was on the grass by his 
 knees. 
 
 "The ol' gig handle was 'bout played out," he 
 began, "an' so I cut this un. 1 left it a little 
 longer'n t'other. A foot or so don't hurt none 
 when you're shinin' suckers. You can reach 
 further." The gig, as Matt persisted in calling 
 the spear, was a four-prong affair of rustic build, 
 evidently by the hand of some country black- 
 smith. The prongs were a trifle more than four 
 inches long, with a barb cut near the points. It 
 had been given to him by a man moving from the 
 place, and was a cherished object. "I've got 
 loads of suckers with her," he said after a pause, 
 and then proceeded to give Mr. Woodhull a gen- 
 eral idea of the process of giggin' suckers. "You 
 get 'em sometimes in the day if you're careful an' 
 quick, but vou have to roust 'em out from sods 
 an' roots with the gig, 'nen hit 'em quick; but the 
 best time is nights. They're on the go all night, 
 an' if you shine 'em right they lay right still. 
 Seems 'ough you could pick 'em up with your 
 hand if the water wasn't too deep. An' frogs," he 
 went on, "is perfec' fools. Shine 'em right and 
 you can pick 'em up like a stone." To Mr. 
 Woodhull "shinin'," as Matt called it, was a new 
 procedure and he was curious about it. "It's this 
 way," he explained: "This time o' the year the 
 suckers run up in all these brooks from the river 
 where they winter bed. They lay in the big holes 
 in the creek in the daytime 'nen go up the small 
 
 69 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 brooks at night where the water's cold to lay their 
 eggs; seems 'ough they do, 'sides I never gigged 
 one in the daytime with eggs. Seems if it's the 
 he ones lays 'round under the bushes an' sods, the 
 mother suckers comin' up from the deep water 
 on'y nights. I've seen 'em more'n once, a lot 
 together where grass was or meb'e a bush an' 
 the water'd look like milk. I never gig 'em that 
 way; looks like murder to me; 'sides eels eats lots 
 of their eggs. I alius gig an eel. Me an' Aunt 
 Mary like 'em bettern' suckers, but she won't 
 cook frogs. 'Frenchies,' she call 'em, but I don't 
 know why." Mr. Woodhull explained that the 
 French people considered frogs a great delicacy, 
 and that great numbers of them were sold in our 
 own cities. "Could I sell 'em?" asked Matt 
 eagerly. "You can sell all you can catch," he 
 was told. "The large ones sell best and always 
 bring good prices." "Why, the's bushels of 'em 
 around here. Seems 'ough it might pay better'n 
 berryin'." 
 
 Mr. Woodhull told him if he wanted to try it 
 he would show him how they had them dressed 
 in the markets, and that he knew of an eating 
 house where they made a specialty of such del- 
 icacies and that they would probably take all he 
 could gather. 
 
 The fish spear having been securely fastened 
 in the handle, Matt proceeded to file the point 
 to his liking, then, turning it over and back, said: 
 "She'll do," and }ilaced it to one side. "Ever 
 
 70 
 
CATCHING SUCKERS 
 
 try asafitdy on worms?" he asked, looking care- 
 fully around to see if the coast was clear. "Aunt 
 Mary alius has a little mixed for the chickens, an' 
 I put a little on the worms when I go suckerin'. 
 They take them prime. But why they do the 
 Lord knows: it smells fit to kill 'em 'stid o' catchin' 
 'em. We'd better take poles a little stiffer'n 
 what we used for perch," and he began sorting 
 out what he wished. "Suckers is heavier to lift 
 outen the water. We might's well be goin'," he 
 said. "We'll fish along the creek for 'em till near 
 dark, 'nen go spearin'." He packed up a can of 
 worms, after "dosin' 'em" a little with Aunt 
 Mary's asafoetida. "Better take all the hooks 
 we used for catties along, the 2-0 ones, as there's 
 roots an' snags, and like's not we'll lose some. 
 
 "I'll get my shinin' jack now," he said. "No 
 use comin' clean back for it." From the shed he 
 produced an innovation of his boyish ingenuity. 
 It consisted of a section of a stove grate firmly 
 lashed to a forked maple with wire. On this was 
 to be carried the fire to do the "shinin'." Next, 
 his hatchet, which was one of his most cherished 
 possessions. He had earned it by turning a lathe 
 for the wheelwright at different times. With it 
 he cut and drove stakes for his muskrat traps, 
 and it was very useful in many ways. To carry 
 it he had improvised a strap which he fastened 
 to his suspenders at the back, so it would not be 
 in his way. He next brought out a coarse bag 
 that was not very sightly and smelled audibly of 
 
 71 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 former trips. "They carry easier in this than in a 
 basket when you get *em," he said. About 3 
 P. M. they started for the creek, which was not 
 the one mentioned in former chapters. At least 
 a mile separated them and they flowed in different 
 directions. 
 
 As they passed through the meadows the boy 
 paused to cut with his hatchet a long root, black- 
 ened by fire, which had run through the dead grass 
 at a previous date. As usual, Mr. Woodhull was 
 interested and asked what purpose he intended it 
 for. "Goin' to have some fun if I can find what 
 I want," he replied, and said nothing further at 
 the time. On coming to a pool of dead water in 
 the meadow, the boy began looking earnestly 
 along the water. "Hoi' on," he said. "Now stan' 
 still an' watch." Stretching himself flat on the 
 ground, he wormed forward, pushing the root in 
 front of him, weaving the end in and out around 
 the bunches of grass at the water's edge. Sud- 
 denly a creaking "scape" came from the ground 
 and a large frog bounded into the air, its long legs 
 trailing behind, and at each leap emitted the 
 same plaintive cry until, finding a place evidently 
 suited to its purpose and far enough from its 
 dreaded imaginary pursuer, it plunged headfore- 
 most into the water, where nothing was to be 
 seen save a roiled place where it had quickly 
 buried itself in the mud. The lad rolled over on 
 his back and giggled and the man laughed out- 
 right. "Thought a blacksnake was after him 
 
 7^ 
 
CATCHING SUCKERS 
 
 sure," he said. "If you get 'em headed away from 
 water they'll jump clean across a field, cryin' like 
 babies. Gosh! didn't he go? Frogs is nachul 
 born fools, anyway," he continued. "You can 
 ketch 'em with a little red rag tied to a fishin' 
 hook an' swing it in front of 'em. The first time 
 it passes they'll stretch up an' their eyes'll bulge 
 out, 'nen when it comes back, plop! an' you got 
 him. They alius comes with both forefeet holdin' 
 tight to the sides of their heads hke an old woman 
 with the headache. Gosh, but they look funny!" 
 Before reaching the place where they were to 
 begin fishing they crossed a small brook on a log. 
 As they did so, several fish of nearly a foot in 
 length went swiftly upstream, their backs making 
 a decided wake in the shallow water. "Are they 
 trout?" asked Mr. WoodhuU excitedly, as he 
 watched them go. "Naw," said Matt in disgust. 
 "Them's on'y chub suckers — chubs, we call 'em. 
 They're no good 'cept to throw sticks at an' see 
 'em go. You alius see 'em in shoal water, 'nen 
 they dodge an' hide. Two men who was fishin' 
 here las' summer called 'em 'stone rollers.' What 
 for I don't know. They said you could take a red 
 raspberry and put it on a small hook an' thread 
 an' float it downstream just 'fore dark, an' the 
 fish would grab it; meb'e they was stringin' me. 
 But," he added, "if you did you would on'y be 
 swappin' good ras'berries for nothin' but bones." 
 The lad's similes were sometimes crude and usually 
 quaint, but always wholesome and carried points 
 
 73 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 for reflection. "This is where I gen'ly try first for 
 'em. Sometimes they're here, but they change 
 about a lot. They's holes all down stream from 
 here. You alius find 'em where the water don't 
 run swift an' where it just turns round 'n round, 
 washin' in the things they feed on, I guess. I 
 don't put the hook clean through the worm, just 
 loop it through 'bout twice an' let the end hang 
 down an' wiggle. They see it better; 'nen I move 
 my cork a few inches at a time 'til the hook swims 
 clear of the bottom. Suckers is alius feedin' 
 there; you never find 'em near the top." The 
 two seated themselves on the grass, which was 
 flecked here and there with patches of cowslips 
 and violets. Across the creek clusters of prim- 
 roses nodded in the gentle summer breeze. All 
 nature seemed at rest and the soul of the man 
 cried aloud for joy. He was living close to nature's 
 heart now, and she was paying him in coin richer 
 far than mined gold in the way of returning health. 
 He was seeking no sensational catch of scaled 
 beauties that early summer afternoon. He was 
 only in quest of the humblest of fishes; yet a very 
 Paradise of beauty and repose was all about him. 
 Besides, the boy was there, a cheerful setting of 
 enthusiasm and freckles. "I've got a nibble of 
 something," he said quietly, and the attention of 
 the lad was drawn from where it had been riveted 
 on the gyrations of a large hawk above the ad- 
 jacent swamp. "That ain't no nibble," he said 
 quickly; "that's a sucker bite. Pull up! They 
 
 74 
 
CATCHING SUCKERS 
 
 never bite no more'n that." When he raised his 
 pole he reahzed a fish was hooked. Then he saw 
 a gleaming side flash the length of the pool, then 
 round, slowly back and forth and come to the 
 surface. Not a very game fish for one of two 
 pounds, still it was catching fish, and a kind he 
 had never caught before. He examined with a 
 good deal of curiosity the peculiar mouth which 
 was under its chin, and very small for such a 
 sized fish. It was heavy with spawn, which exuded 
 when held in the hand. "That fish would be up 
 the brook to-night, layin' her eggs," said Matt, 
 "an' if all the eggs should hatch an' grow the 
 brooks couldn't hold 'em; must be a lot wasted 
 somehow." Two more fish were taken from the 
 same pool, and when no more seemed to be there 
 they moved on down the stream to where the 
 brook ran in, where, as Matt said, they would go 
 "giggin'." Here a large pool was formed by the 
 action of the waters meeting, and several large 
 fish were taken. Mr. Woodhull, getting foul of a 
 snag or root, lost a hook, and later on Matt had 
 the same experience. 
 
 "What do you use for making your light when 
 spearing fish?" asked his companion, as night was 
 drawing on. "That's what I brought the hatchet 
 for," was the answer. "Right across from where 
 we are is an ol' pine stump. Many a lot of fat 
 I've got from her." And going over on a log 
 which lay across the creek, he was soon at work 
 splitting such pieces as he needed. Returning, he 
 
 75 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 then worked them up finer, and when satisfied 
 with the result, put the fat pine in the bag, after 
 shaking out a pair of dilapidated shoes he had 
 put in at the shed. "Keeps my feet from gittin' 
 snagged when wadin','' he said. 
 
 When all was ready they leaned their poles 
 against a tree and then crossed over the creek, 
 going to where the brook emptied, and then Matt 
 made his fire on the jack, using small splinters to 
 start with and larger ones as the fire took hold. 
 "Don't have to have a big fire," he said, as he 
 stepped into the brook, "just enough to keep it 
 bright. You walk along the bank an' hold it just 
 so the light is in the center. Keep it a little ahead 
 of me, an' when I say 'hoi' on,' why, stop. There's 
 some bushes all along; you'll have to go 'round 
 'em an' I'll ketch up." They had not proceeded 
 far when Matt gave his signal. "The's two right 
 ahead," he said. "Stan' still with the light," and 
 he moved with caution through the water. Sud- 
 denly he poised the spear and plunged it sharply 
 into the water. There was a splash, and a good 
 sized fish was thrown out on the bank. "Kin you 
 see 'em?" asked Matt eagerly, as more fish moved 
 out into the light. "When you do, keep it right 
 over 'em an' they'll stop." Fish after fish was 
 taken, and Mr. Woodhull grew enthusiastic over 
 the sport fully as much as when taking them on 
 the hook. The excitement of spotting them with 
 the light and then seeing them struck with the 
 spear was exhilarating. Here was a man who 
 
 76 
 
CATCHING SUCKERS 
 
 only a few short weeks before was almost an in- 
 valid now threshing around in the night, shouting 
 like a schoolboy over success or failure of a stroke 
 of the spear at a brook sucker. At Matt's sug- 
 gestion each fish, when thrown out, received a 
 sharp rap over the head. "So it will be where we 
 leave it when we come back," he said, "as we can 
 only gig up-stream; the water is too riley to work 
 back; 'sides, the fish would be working the wrong 
 way." While arranging the light Mr. Woodhull 
 asked the boy what use he could make of so many 
 fish at one time. "Why, I alius get somethin' 
 outen 'em from somebody who wants fish at this 
 time of the year. Before the water gets too warm 
 they are good, and they will take 'em at some 
 price. "Hoi' your hght right still now. See that 
 big frog? I'll pick him right up. See?" and, suit- 
 ing the action to the word, he held up an immense 
 frog, struggling hard to get free. "Ain't they the 
 dummies, 'ough?" he asked. In shallow water 
 the reflection of a bright light on the back of a 
 fish gives off a bluish glare and makes a promi- 
 nent mark for the spear. "I guess we've got 
 enough," Matt remarked. "The goin' is harder 
 on up, 'sides, we won't want to carry any more. 
 Bet we've got fifty pounds now. The's no eels 
 around to-night much," he added. "Ain't seen 
 but two, and they were small ones. Sometimes 
 the's plenty." 
 
 So back they went on the same course, gather- 
 ing the fish in the old bag, their jack giving plenty 
 
 77 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 of light for the purpose. Matt had crossed the 
 creek in advance, carrying the hsh, and had put 
 them down when Mr. Woodhull heard a startled 
 scream from the boy, and he threw up the light 
 in time to see Matt's body disappear from view 
 in the murky waters and an indistinct form go 
 scurrying across the meadow. 
 
 78 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Bobbing for Eels and Selling Frogs 
 
 Mr. Woodhull was thoroughly alarmed when 
 he saw Matt take his involuntary plunge in the 
 creek, as it was at the spot where they had fished 
 during the afternoon and he knew the water was 
 deep; besides, he had no knowledge as to whether 
 the lad could swim or not. There was also the 
 danger that he might strike a snag or other ob- 
 struction in the water. He kept the jacklight 
 thrown on the water as he crossed on the tree 
 trunk, and was delighted to see the lad come to 
 the surface and strike out vigorously for the bank, 
 apparently uninjured. He gave him a helping 
 hand as he scrambled up the bank, where he 
 stood a minute, a picture of righteous wrath and 
 disgust. "I do' know," he began, as soon as he 
 had cleared his throat of mud and water, "who 
 done it. I just set the bag of suckers down by 
 the tree when, quick's a flash, he grabbed me by 
 the neck an' one leg, an' when I yelped he ducked 
 me in. Gosh! I didn't know's anybody was so 
 mean; 'sides. Aunt Mary'll meb'e stop my fishin'." 
 The night air was cold, and as the boy soon gave 
 evidence of being chilled, they hurried their de- 
 parture, walking as rapidly as the traps which 
 
 79 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 they had to carry would permit and reached the 
 cottage before Aunt Mary had retired. That 
 personage was horrified and, as usual, somewhat 
 critical. "It comes along of your gettin' into a 
 fight," she said excitedly. "Good lands! you're 
 wet as a rat. I'll make a cup o' tea and you go 
 change your clothes while I do it." While Matt 
 was upstairs Mr. Woodhull gave a full statement 
 of the affair, assuring the aunt that there had been 
 no dispute, and that neither had been given op- 
 portunity to see who the assailant was. "I know 
 well's I want to who done it," she replied, "so 
 does Matt, but he won't say so till he knows tor 
 sure. Ned Southard's mean as pizen, pickin' on 
 smaller boys. The'll be another ruction sure next 
 time they meet." The boy came downstairs with 
 dry clothes on, while his aunt was still busy 
 around the stove, "fixin' a warm bite," as she 
 termed it, and he looked but little the worse for 
 his experience. Aunt Mary had formed a great 
 liking for Mr. Woodhull, whose pleasant manners 
 appealed to her, besides she had a sort of maternal 
 feeling toward the man. His marked improve- 
 ment in health as a result of the out-of-door life 
 he was leading in company with Matt was doing 
 him good. But one thing she could not under- 
 stand: why a man of refinement and education 
 should take such a fancy to her clumsy, unlettered 
 boy. Aunt Mary had never gone "fishin' " nor 
 had she been initiated into its soulful mysteries. The 
 answer to her would serve for many, many thou- 
 
 80 
 
BOBBING FOR EELS 
 
 sands of others who do not understand the strange 
 friendships which spring up and grow between 
 what seems Hke strong opposites in the many walks 
 of Hfe. "What'll you ever do with all them 
 suckers?" she asked as Matt and his companion 
 regaled themselves with the luncheon. "The's 
 more'n half a bushel." "The's never been a time 
 when any was wasted," said Matt. "Somebody 
 alius wants 'em at some price. I ain't worryin' 
 none 'bout that. What beats me is who soused 
 me in the creek." "As if you didn't know well's 
 you need to," said the aunt. "The's only one 
 who would do it, and he's forever picking on you 
 for no reason as I know of." "The's a lot o' 
 difference 'tween thinkin' an' knowin'," returned 
 Matt. "I know who kicked the eggs, 'cause I 
 seen him. I don't know who soused me, 'cause I 
 on'y felt him, but," he continued, "the's ways o' 
 finding out things 'thout makin' any noise. Let's 
 go bobbin' for eels to-morrow night," he said, as 
 his friend was preparing to leave. "I'm goin' to 
 dress the garden over an' get plenty of worms. 
 You don't have to wash or moss 'em to make 
 bobs." "Good land!" broke in Aunt Mary, "I 
 should think you'd got bobbin' plenty for once, 
 while maybe Mr. Woodhull had best not be out 
 nights nor around the water so much, but," she 
 added in a lighter vein, "somethin' seems to be 
 agreein' with you." 
 
 Mr. Woodhull agreed to be over the following 
 afternoon prepared for the trip, and expressed a 
 6 8i 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 great desire to see eels taken in the manner de- 
 scribed by the boy. 
 
 Matt was around early the following morning, 
 had the chores done, and was washing his fish 
 when his aunt came down. She paused a moment, 
 looking over his catch, and remarked: "They run 
 big, don't they? "They're mos' all spawnin' 
 ones," was his answer. "The's plenty for us, I 
 guess," he said, as he threw two large ones to one 
 side. At breakfast he told his aunt he intended 
 building a frog pen down by the well-drain some 
 day. "What do you want o' frogs?" broke in the 
 aunt, as was her custom, dropping her knife and 
 fork and looking at him curiously. "Well," said 
 Matt, "the's no more plantin' 'mong the farmers; 
 it's all done, an' it's too early for berrin'; 'sides, 
 Mr. Woodhull says he'll sell all the big frogs I 
 can catch at a good price. The's lots of 'em along 
 the brooks an' places I know." "Well," said the 
 aunt, "when folks want frogs to eat they can 
 have 'em for all o' me." 
 
 Matt divided his catch of fish, taking one-half 
 in a large basket and put a wet towel over them to 
 keep them fresh, then started out. In less than 
 half an hour his aunt was surprised to see him come 
 in the yard swinging his empty basket. "I had 
 good luck right off," he said. "I met Mr. Baker 
 down the road. He's got some men makin' fence 
 an' cleaning up; said the fish'd come handy, but 
 he held me down in price — gave me half a dollar, 
 that's all," and he handed the money to his aunt, 
 
BOBBING FOR EELS 
 
 who took it without comment. The balance of 
 the fish was then put in the basket and he again 
 started out. While in one of the houses that he 
 stopped at, a boy of about his own age said, 
 "Got ducked las' night, didn't ye. Matt?" "Who 
 said so.^" asked the latter quietly. "Ned Southard 
 tol' me, an' he tol' others, too; said he heard it 
 first thing this mornin' how you slipped off'n the 
 bank clean over your head." Here was evidence 
 of substantiating quality. Matt had told no one 
 but his aunt, and from Mr. Woodhull no word 
 could have reached that point so early in the day; 
 besides, he would not have given out that Matt 
 had slipped in through accident. 
 
 He had sold to the wheelwright the last of his 
 fish and was seated on a bench talking when who 
 should drive up but Southard himself with some 
 repair work to be done for his father. Giving a 
 signal to his friend to keep mum. Matt dodged 
 behind a stairway when Southard entered the shop 
 and seated himself where Matt had sat a moment 
 before. "Did you hear how Matt Buckley got 
 ducked las' night ?" he asked the first thing. "No," 
 said the wheelwright, and he paused in his work 
 to get the story. "Well, 'twas like this: Him an' 
 that sick dude what's fishin' with him all the time 
 went out spearin' suckers, an' Matt, gettin' too 
 close up, slipped an' went in clean over his head. 
 Didn't hurt him none, though, I guess. Washed 
 some of the freckles off, meb'e." Matt could 
 stand no more. "You're tellin' a plum lie," he 
 
 83 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 exclaimed, as he walked from behind the stair- 
 way boldly, well knowing his friend, the wheel- 
 wright, would protect him. "You grabbed me by 
 the neck an' x^ne leg an' heaved me in, not carin' 
 if I drowned or not; 'nen you scooted like a skunk." 
 Southard jumped to his feet on hearing his voice, 
 and the two stood glaring at each other savagely 
 for a moment, when the older of the two seated 
 himself on the light saw-bench with his back to 
 Matt and a look of contempt on his face. Matt 
 stood leaning against the workbench at the side 
 of the shop, when his quick eye took in the fact 
 that the wheelwright had thrown some shavings 
 and blocks of wood into the old stove to warm 
 the glue in the pot on the top. Like a flash he 
 grabbed a leg of the light bench on which Southard 
 was seated and with a savage yank dropped him 
 heavily to the floor. At the same instant he 
 grabbed with the other hand the brush which 
 was in the warm glue and buried it deeply in the 
 curly hair of his enemy, leaving a flood of the 
 sticky substance where it would do the most 
 good — or damage — and before the exasperated 
 Southard could regain his feet Matt was through 
 the door with his basket, piping back to the wheel- 
 wright, "Charge the glue to his father." 
 
 \Vhen he entered the gate at his home his aunt 
 knew by a glance at his flushed appearance that 
 something was on foot, but she said nothing, 
 knowing that the story would come out in good 
 time, whatever its nature. He gave her the bal- 
 
 84 
 
BOBBING FOR EELS 
 
 ance of his money, amounting, all told, to but 
 little more than one dollar. Small as the sum 
 was, it helped out by just that much in providing 
 table necessities. He took down his. hoe and rake 
 and went to the garden, where he worked until 
 noon, "dressin' the garden," as he called it, mean- 
 while gathering a can of worms for making the 
 bobs. 
 
 During the dinner Matt said in his quiet, droll 
 way: "Seems 'ough Ned Southard's gittin' mighty 
 stuck up lately. Seen him in the wheelwright shop 
 this mornin' an' — " "I should think he would 
 feel proud of last night's work," broke in the 
 aunt. "I know he done it, most as if I'd seen 
 him." "I know it, too, now," Matt rejoined. 
 Then he related how he heard Southard telling 
 the wheelwright how he had slipped from the 
 bank and the subsequent wetting. "I'd a-faced 
 him right there with his 'bomnible lie," said Aunt 
 Mary, with an unusual degree of warmth. "I 
 did," said Matt. " 'Nen I upset his bench an' 
 sloshed his hair full o' hot glue. Gosh! but I'd 
 hke to see him com'in' it out." Again Aunt Mary 
 laid her knife and fork down and sat with one 
 elbow resting on the table, looking at him in mute 
 astonishment. "He'll never get it out 'till the 
 crack o' doom," she said, when she could find 
 words. "The crack o' doom won't help him 
 none," said Matt, as he shoved back from the 
 table. "He'll have to have his head shaved," and 
 the boy chuckled as the picture returned to him. 
 
 85 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 Mr. Woodhull was around, as agreed, at three 
 o'clock, anxious as a schoolboy to be initiated 
 in the secrets of eel bobbing. Matt had two 
 large sewing needles and a supply of linen thread 
 ready and was awaiting his friend's coming. 
 Threading the needle with a six-foot length, he 
 doubled it and tied a knot in the end. He next 
 proceeded to string the worms on, using the eye 
 end of the needle, as it would follow the channel 
 through the worm and not pierce through so 
 readily as the point, then passing the worm on 
 down to the knot in the end of the thread. Each 
 worm was treated in the same manner and just 
 touched the end of the preceding one. He con- 
 tinued until the thread was full, then, knotting 
 another thread to the first, the process was con- 
 tinued until a string of fully twelve feet was made. 
 Mr. Woodhull was a most interested spectator 
 until he caught the idea, then he set about mak- 
 ing a second string, and while not so handy at the 
 job as Matt, he was soon working it well. 
 
 "Did you take any cold from your wetting last 
 night," ne asked as, with their heads close to- 
 gether, they threaded the worms. "Have you 
 any idea as to who it was who would play so dan- 
 gerous a trick?" "No, don't seem to have got 
 any cold, but I sure felt chilly like goin' home; 
 'sides, 'twasn't any trick at all; 'twas clear spite." 
 The boy related the egg episode, which amused 
 his companion greatly, and then added: " 'Sides, 
 I told him this mornin' I knowed who done it, 
 
 86 
 
BOBBING FOR EELS 
 
 an' I hot-glued his hair for him." On hearing the 
 adventure of the morning, Mr. WoodhuU lay 
 over on the grass convulsed with laughter. "I 
 am much afraid, though," he said, "he will do 
 you some great injury." "Not if I see him first 
 he won't. He's bigger'n me an' stronger, but he 
 can't catch me in a footrace," replied Matt, 
 smiling. 
 
 Before it was time to start for the lower mill 
 basin, where Matt said their chances were best 
 for getting good eels, their friend of their former 
 trips stopped at the gate. He had been away on 
 a business trip and had just gotten back. He, 
 Hke Mr. Woodhull, was much interested in the 
 construction of a bob, which, after being strung, 
 was looped back and forth until it was not more 
 than four inches in length and making a bunch of 
 considerable thickness. This was wound with 
 thread quite loosely so as to not cut the worms 
 too much. Matt remarking: "The more thread 
 you get on the better you get the eels." "How 
 do you fasten the hooks in this mess of worms?" 
 Mr. Adams asked, as the bobs were pronounced 
 done. "We don't use no hooks," replied the boy. 
 "Eels has got a row of fine teeth along their 
 mouth edge, an' when they take holt an' pull we 
 just yank 'em out on the ground." Both men 
 seemed incredulous, but as Matt had made good 
 with so many things he had told them of in rela- 
 tion to the ways and kinds of fish in the neighbor- 
 hood, they did not ooenly dispute his assertions 
 
 87 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 about eels getting the thread fast in their teeth. 
 Mr. Adams was not prepared to go with them that 
 evening, but had come over to have a talk about 
 a trip extending over a week or more down the 
 river later in the season. Aunt Mary was called 
 in consultation and the plan talked over. Mr. 
 Adams would furnish a shelter tent and pro- 
 vision, then they would take a boat from below 
 the lower dam on the river and go down to salt 
 water, getting such fish as were to be had on the 
 route. Matt of course was all enthusiasm, but 
 Aunt Mary, with her usual diplomacy, reserved 
 her decision. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 Bobbing for Eels 
 
 "I AM glad you do not think eels beneath your 
 endeavor," said Mr. Adams, as they sat down on 
 the grass. "I would rather have them to eat 
 than any other fish that swims." 
 
 "So'd me an' Aunt Mary," broke in Matt; 
 " 'sides, when I get many I can alius sell 'em 
 better'n any other kind." 
 
 "I attended a lecture once," said Mr. Adams, 
 "and during its course I heard some of the most 
 astonishing things in relation to the eel. The man 
 was lecturing on the value of fish as a food, and 
 he particularly dwelt on the eel. Their habits 
 have in the past been but little understood and 
 their value to man not fully appreciated. 
 
 "It has been determined for only a compara- 
 tively short period of time, and then only after 
 the deepest research, just how eels breed. In- 
 vestigation proves that they spawn only in the 
 ocean. While it is true that eels planted in ponds 
 or lakes where it is impossible for them to get 
 out will thrive and grow large, still there is never 
 any increase in numbers." 
 
 Matt lay, giving breathless attention to this 
 revelation of things he had never even dreamed 
 of, and Mr. Adams was unconsciously planting 
 
 89 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 seed in virgin soil which was in after years to 
 give full fruition in the man Matt. Many of the 
 words used by Mr. Adams were but vaguely 
 understood by the boy, still all were compre- 
 hended in a general way, and he was being schooled 
 much more rapidly than even he was aware of at 
 the time. 
 
 "While eels are regarded as scavengers, and in 
 a sense the claim is true," continued Mr. Adams, 
 "yet they are fully alive to the tid-bits of the 
 waters, as their fondness for the roe of other fish 
 bears witness, that of the shad being preferred to 
 all others. In their wanderings up and down 
 their favorite streams they at times do wonderful 
 things. They have been known to completely 
 clog city water pipes, and will even cross wet 
 meadows at night to get to other streams, instinct, 
 of which we as yet know but little, telling them 
 the direction in which the desired stream lays. 
 
 "That they spawn only in the ocean is assured 
 by the fact that in all of the streams leading in- 
 land during the early summer countless millions 
 of the tiny fish may be seen working their way 
 to the fresh waters; this is particularly true at 
 the foot of the dams which cross the streams.* 
 
 *Onc Fourth of July morning the writer was taken by a friend 
 to witness this wonderful sight, to the very stream being written 
 of in these sketches. It was the lowest dam at the head of the 
 Manasquan River, where a pool or basin is naturally formed at 
 such places by the action of the waters. It was at least fifty feet 
 wide and about one hundred feet in length and at least ten feet 
 in depth. This body of water was a complete mass of eel life 
 numbering untold millions. 
 
 90 
 
BOBBING FOR EELS 
 
 "When the wind is not blowing they may be 
 seen working their diminutive bodies, no thicker 
 than a darning needle and from three to four 
 inches in length, over rocks and the gates of the 
 dam, anywhere where there is moisture — all in 
 the same effort to get to the headwaters. What 
 salmon and other fish do with wild leaps these 
 midgets accomplish after the most tedious and 
 determined effort." 
 
 Matt could scarcely keep quiet. "Gee!" he 
 said, "I've seen 'em more'n once clim'in' the dam, 
 but I s'posed they had been hatched in the mill- 
 gate hole. They was no longer'n my finger and 
 the littlest mites!" "How many out of each 
 thousand finally reach their destination is mere 
 guess work," continued Mr. Adams, "but it is 
 certain that immense numbers do, as thousands 
 of tons of the mature fish are caught and marketed 
 annually. They are a very important article of 
 food, and the market is never over-supplied, and 
 they always sell at a good price. All eels are of 
 much the same shape, the principal difference 
 being in the shape of their heads, one species 
 being much broader than the other. In salt 
 water the favorite is the silver eel. This kind 
 apparently seldom goes beyond tidewater. It is 
 dark green on the back and bright silvery-white 
 on the belly, and in tidal streams is extremely 
 abundant. In commercial fishery they are taken 
 in eel pots in vast numbers." 
 
 "What's eel pots?" asked Matt with great 
 
 91 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 earnestness. "Seems like goin' to school on fish 
 to hear you talk an' the way you know." 
 
 Mr. Adams described the way eel pots were 
 constructed and the manner of their setting; also 
 how he had seen them in use in the different parts 
 of the country, but many of the things he was 
 telling them he had learned himself from a man 
 he had heard lecture on fish who was in the em- 
 ploy of the government to instruct people on the 
 importance of fish as food. "Seems funny," said 
 the lad, "you never seen bobs before. Everybody 
 'round here uses 'em." "While 1 have heard of 
 them in a way, still I never before saw one nor 
 understood just how they were made," Mr. 
 Adams answered. "As eels will eat almost any 
 kind of substance of an animal nature, I wonder 
 if something else would answer as well as worms?" 
 asked Mr. Adams. "I do' know," said the boy. 
 "Seems 'ough worms is best." "On our camping 
 trip we may find out many things by taking our 
 time which we would be most sure to overlook 
 on a short trip," Mr. Woodhull said, as he was 
 looking forward to the trip with great anticipa- 
 tion. Matt said, "I wonder if Aunt Mary'll let 
 me go: 
 
 "We'd best take the stoutest poles I've got," 
 remarked Matt, as he came from the shed with 
 the desired articles. "Don't want 'em to bend 
 too much; you have to chuck 'em out quick." 
 He then tied the bobs to the ends of the poles 
 with stout strings, leaving them to swing free a 
 
 92 
 
BOBBING FOR EELS 
 
 few inches. "I'll get some matches to start a 
 fire 'long the bank; it draws eels some, 'sides 
 helpin' you to ketch 'em as they move quick on 
 grass when it's wet." He next produced a basket 
 into which he laid a piece of muslin which appar- 
 ently had done service of the kind before. 
 "Wouldn't it be better to take the bag along?" he 
 was asked. "The basket has low sides and eels 
 can get out quickly." "Not when I get through 
 with 'em," said Matt. 
 
 After telling the aunt, they started off and 
 strolled across the field to the white bridge, then 
 along the border of the creek which led up to the 
 mill. "Here goes a wood-duck," said the boy, 
 as the whistle of wings sounded overhead, and, 
 shading his eyes with his hand, he bent low and 
 watched the bird's flight into the swamp. "She's 
 got a nest there in that ol' tree she's lit in; funny 
 why them birds alius builds nests in trees. I'll 
 bet she's got young ones — it's time for 'em now. 
 I'd like to go over an' see how many. They must 
 be near ready to fly by now. Hawks hunt 'em 
 hard when ducks is little. Don't seem's 'ough any 
 could get by, but they do." So he rambled on in 
 his own way, this untutored country boy. Little 
 of anything in nature escaped his vigilant eye, 
 and apparently nothing once seen was ever for- 
 gotten. He could tell the number of eggs each 
 variety of bird would lay, as well as their color; 
 also the kind of food the mother bird would bring 
 to her nestlings at the diff'erent periods of their 
 
 93 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 growth. In fact, he was acquiring an ele- 
 mentary knowledge from the Book of Nature 
 which contains no typographical errors nor am- 
 biguous text. 
 
 "Seems we started plenty early," he said, as 
 they stopped under a large tree standing by the 
 side of the creek. "Eels don't move 'bout much 
 till dark an' after. Look! Right down at the 
 foot of the ol' white birch the's a mus'rat out." 
 The httle animal came into view with its mouth 
 filled with young roots, which it proceeded to 
 wash with a degree of energy in the clear water, 
 swinging its head from side to side until, appar- 
 ently satisfied with its efforts, it lowered itself 
 into the water and swam noiselessly across the 
 creek and disappeared in its burrow in the bank, 
 the tiny waves giving back a faint echo from the 
 opening. 
 
 "I of'en come out in the woods Sundays an' 
 just set still for hours, an' the's many funny 
 things I see," continued Matt. "Seems 'ough 
 birds an' other things has their troubles as well 
 as folks, on'y different kinds. I've seen minks 
 chase rabbits all over the swamp; they'll track 
 'em like a houn' dog. Seems 'ough everything's 
 the mortal enemy of a rabbit." As they passed 
 along they picked up pieces ot bark and sticks, 
 anything which was dry was put in the basket 
 to make their fire with. Matt gathered up some 
 sand and wrapped it in his piece of muslin. "A 
 little of that on the rag an* you get a grip on Mr. 
 
 94 
 
BOBBING FOR EELS 
 
 Eel 'at you can't no other way. Gosh, but they're 
 slippery ! 
 
 "We'll go in on this side of the mill-hole this 
 time, near the wheel: the water ain't so deep; 
 'sides, they most lay where the water dribbles 
 out from behind the water-wheel — don't know 
 why, but they do. It's comin' near dark now, an' 
 we'll light the fire clear down by the water so's 
 they'll see it. They'll alius come to'ards a hght. 
 Put your bob in an' let it lay on the bottom; 
 you'll feel 'em yank if any's here; 'sides, you can 
 fair hear 'em tunk their heads on the pole when 
 they grab for the worms. You won't need no 
 tellin' when you get a bite." Both secured seats 
 and presently Mr. Woodhull realized that an 
 eel was at his bob; there was a most decided yank 
 and a peculiar sensation of jarring on the pole. 
 He communicated the fact to his boy companion. 
 "Well, yank," he said. "Soon as you feel 'em 
 you needn't wait; they'll eat your worms all up 
 if you don't." At the next pull Mr. Woodhull 
 raised his pole from the water, but there was no 
 eel. "You was plum slow," said the boy, "an' 
 when they come out 'en the water swing the pole 
 clean over the bank quick or they'll drop off. 
 Now watch me." The lad brought the pole out 
 so fast it could be heard cutting through the water 
 and was bent nearly double. The motion was 
 carried over the bank, when an eel was heard to 
 drop well back of him. "I got a good one then," 
 he said, and by the light of the fire Mr. Woodhull 
 
 95 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 saw him throw a small quantity of sand on the 
 rag and in a moment he came back with a large 
 eel squirming energetically but unable to get 
 loose. "You sure tucker 'em with a little sand 
 and a rag," he said. Then placing the eel firmly 
 on the ground he gave it a quick cut with his 
 knife just back of the head, when it instantly be- 
 came inert. \Yhile he was thus engaged Mr. 
 Woodhull rose to his feet. There were sounds of 
 struggling at the surface of the water, then an 
 enormous eel dropped at their very feet. "Gee- 
 whilikens! What a whopper!" gasped Matt, 
 "You've got the daddy of 'em all," and he grasped 
 it with his sanded rag. The eel as promptly 
 wrapped itself around his arm and continued to 
 turn in the boy's grasp while he was endeavoring 
 to get his knife point in at the desired spot. "It's 
 stronger'n a bull," he said. "Gee, but they twist 
 some!" Finally the coup was given and he held 
 up a splendid specimen fully three feet in length. 
 "He almost took the pole out of my hands," said 
 Mr. Woodhull. "This is sport! But what gets 
 me is why they hold on so long." "They don't; 
 they get the thread in their fine teeth an' can't 
 let go," said Matt, "if you jerk 'em quick. Seems 
 'ough Mr. Adams knows a pile 'bout fish an' 
 fishin' an' a whole lot about eels I didn't know. 
 Seems queer none breed 'cept in salt water." 
 "Mr. Adams has traveled and read a great deal 
 and, being fond of the sport, has had a chance to 
 
 96 
 
The end of a perfect day 
 
BOBBING FOR EELS 
 
 learn much," said Mr. Woodhull as he threw out 
 another eel. 
 
 By this time they decided to quit. Their bobs 
 were really used up, little remaining but the 
 bare threads, and they had quite a basket of eels. 
 
 "I'll find a little more wood and make a bright 
 fire an' skin 'em; it's a good place here," said 
 Matt. His companion looked askance at skinning 
 a basketful of eels. To him it seemed an almost 
 interminable job, but he said nothing. 
 
 Matt secured a piece of board, and starting at 
 the place where he had cut the back through he 
 ran the sharp point of the knife down the back 
 several inches, then severed the head, taking care 
 to not cut through the skin at the throat. Then, 
 holding the body of the eel firmly with his knife 
 he gave a sharp pull, loosening the skin all around 
 the end. Then taking the end in his right hand, 
 he, with his left, took the entire skin off with one 
 pull, the entire operation taking but a brief space 
 of time. Mr. Woodhull watched with keen in- 
 terest as eel after eel was cleaned. When all was 
 done the lad took all the larger skins and, after 
 pulling them out straight, laid them on the 
 cleaned fish, saying as he did so: "When they're 
 dry they're the toughest thing in creation, an' 
 somebody's alius wantin' 'em. I can get two 
 cents for 'em, sometimes three, when they are 
 long." They parted at the bridge, Mr. Woodhull 
 accepting a small portion of the eels, as he said 
 V 97 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 he was very fond of them when fried. Matt care- 
 fully avoided the creek bank as well as all dark 
 places, for he knew his enemy would lay for him 
 somewhere sometime, and he was taking no 
 chances. He knew that he had no show if Southard 
 once got him in his grip, being so much larger 
 and stronger, but he was more than a match for 
 him in a race. 
 
 The following morning Matt was at the store 
 after disposing of his eels. Mr. Madge, the store- 
 keeper, asked him if he had seen Southard lately. 
 "Not since I met him in the wheelwright shop," 
 returned Matt with a grin. Mr. Madge laughed 
 heartily and said: "He's out back of the store 
 now getting some barrels, and will be in soon. 
 You hide in the closet there. You ought to see 
 his head." Matt did as directed, and had the 
 fun a few minutes later of getting a look at the 
 shaven head of his foe, which, as Mr. Madge had 
 said, "was as bare as a pumpkin." As Southard 
 went out Matt came from his hiding place, slap- 
 ping his leg, as was his custom when highly 
 amused. "Looks like somethin' happened to him," 
 he said. "Gosh! s'pose he'd a knowed I was there 
 grinnin' at him." 
 
 The next ten days were busy ones for Matt. 
 Mr. Woodhull had gone on a visit to his wife and 
 child, while Mr. Adams was away on a business 
 trip, and the lad had busied himself with his frog 
 enterprise. Mr. Woodhull had given him the 
 address of the house where he might dispose of 
 
 98 
 
BOBBING FOR EELS 
 
 such as he might get, and had written for him 
 that he would send some on within a short time. 
 Left to his own resources entirely, he had con- 
 structed a net from the balance of his fly net, as 
 he knew he would need something of the kind to 
 make the capture easy. He had lashed it to a 
 birch with forked branches much the same as the 
 landing net, but much lighter and about ten feet 
 long. A pen to keep them alive in at the well 
 drain was constructed, and all was about ready 
 for his first endeavor. Aunt Mary was skeptical 
 and very much inclined to view the whole pro- 
 ceedings with distrust. That frogs would bring 
 real money was to her a doubtful statement, being 
 inclined, like so many others, to view Hkes and 
 dislikes through her own glasses. "You're wastin' 
 of your time," she said, as Matt was preparing 
 to start on his first trip. "You may get frogs, but 
 you ain't seen, nor likely to, any money for 'em." 
 Matt said nothing, but went on with net in hand 
 and the much-used coarse bag under his arm. 
 One thing he did not say a thing about was the 
 fact that he had secured a red rag, and one of his 
 fish lines was in his pocket. He had filed the 
 barb from the hook, and had in mind that where 
 one plan failed the other might succeed. There 
 were acres of marshes along the streams, and he 
 was soon busy plying his net. With the long 
 handle he could reach over the rushes and other 
 impediments and by working the net to the side 
 of the frog would not arouse its suspicion that it 
 
 99 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 was in danger until a quick flop-over, then with 
 a twist of the frame the frog was hopelessly en- 
 meshed. The slender brown frogs he did not take 
 in, as they were not the kind used; only the large 
 green-back ones were wanted. Many places where 
 his view was obstructed and he had reason to 
 believe they were sitting he would swing the red 
 rag and hook back and forth and many large ones 
 were taken in that way. As the barb was filed 
 from the hook, they were not injured in the least 
 in being unhooked, and, as Matt said, "They 
 looked funny comin' in with their heads in their 
 hands." Matt kept the frogging trips up for three 
 days, and having his pen pretty well filled decided 
 to dress and ship them. Mr. Woodhull had told 
 him just how they should be prepared, and he 
 was busy the better part of one day in the work, 
 cutting them just as he had been told and tying 
 them in bunches. He got a quantity of clean 
 moss from the meadow and packed it around them 
 carefully, then a wet cloth over all. A neighbor, 
 whom he found out was going to the town three 
 miles distant, kindly sent them by express, and 
 the matter was concluded, save sending a letter 
 which Mr. Madge had kindly helped him with, 
 telling the city house he had shipped them. "Now 
 that they're gone, how much'll I get in money?" 
 he asked his aunt at the supper table. "Le's 
 guess." Aunt Mary snorted: "You'll 'bout get 
 the trouble you've had," she returned, "an' some- 
 body'U send us a bill for express. I ain't got no 
 
 lOO 
 
BOBBING FOR EELS 
 
 faith in frogs nor much in anybody what'll eat 
 'em." "Well, I'll guess five dollars," he said. 
 "Might's well say that as anything." "Five dol- 
 lars for a little starch box of frogs!" said his aunt. 
 "Might's well say ten and be done with it. The 
 sooner fool notions is out of your head the better 
 for us both, Matt Buckley." 
 
 Several days went by. Mr. Woodhull had re- 
 turned, and they had again gone perch fishing, 
 but nothing had been heard from the shipment of 
 frogs. He assured Matt it was all right and that 
 they would surely bring him something. The 
 local mail was left each day at the store, and the 
 day following the conversation with Mr. Wood- 
 hull, Matt was in the store, when Mr. Madge, 
 going behind the counter, said: "Here's a letter 
 for you, Matt. Getting a little like a business 
 man, ain't you.^" Matt put the letter in his 
 pocket, not caring to open it there, as he had told 
 no one about his frog enterprise; so if nothing 
 came of it nobody would be wiser if he could help 
 it. "Well, the letter's come," he said, as he walked 
 into the house, "an' I ain't opened it yet. Le's 
 guess," he teased his aunt. "Well," she said, "if 
 I guess it will be two dollars." "I'll stick to my 
 five," he said doggedly, and tore open the en- 
 velope. He gazed at the check without saying a 
 word for more than a minute. Then, slapping 
 his leg he fairly yelled "They brought me twelve 
 dollars, them frogs!" " 'Tain't no sech thing," 
 said his aunt. "I don't beHeve it." Then, pulling 
 
 lOI 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 her glasses down from the top of her head, she 
 read the check for herself, with the comment: 
 "Matt Buckley, you ain't a fool all the time, air 
 ye?" Here was more money than the boy had 
 ever been possessed of at any time in his life, and 
 to his aunt it was a large sum. The boy was re- 
 clining on one elbow on the porch floor buried in 
 thought. He was busy dreaming the long dreams 
 of youth. Gradually they grew into a stimulating 
 picture of the long career that stretched ahead of 
 him. The gates to success had at last been opened. 
 Frogs were plentiful all over the marshes. Four 
 days' work had brought him twelve dollars, as 
 much money as he could probably make the entire 
 season picking the wild berries in the woods and 
 then finding sale for them. With the glowing 
 thought of pride that he felt in his triumph there 
 came the realization of what it must mean to his 
 aunt, now that he had found means of lessening 
 the problem of living. "Matt," said Aunt Mary, 
 as she came out with a happy smile and took a 
 chair near him, "we didn't do so bad with our 
 frogs, did we?" 
 
 lo: 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 Fishing for Carp and Crappies 
 
 "There's no mortal sense in toUin' boys off" to 
 go fishinV' said Aunt Mary one morning some 
 weeks after the frogging experience. "Besides, it 
 takes the time away from gatherin' frogs, which is 
 good. I do' know what on earth they see in 
 eatin' 'em, but they don't seem to let up any in 
 the price." 
 
 Matt had made several shipments, and each 
 time the returns had come back satisfactory, and 
 a letter following one shipment had assured him 
 that all he could secure would be acceptable. 
 Here was a new way opening up to earn money, 
 and Aunt Mary was provided with more funds 
 than she had ever had at one time during her 
 widowhood. "Seems 'ough frogs ain't so meachin' 
 mean as they one time was," said Matt, a sug- 
 gestion of a smile playing around his mouth. 
 "Nothin' ain't mean, once you can put it to good 
 use," snapped back his aunt, "an' you needn't 
 touch me up none about it. Seems you're gittin' 
 a little peart like with your tongue." "I wasn't 
 touchin' of you up," said Matt; "I was talkin' on 
 the good p'ints of frogs." This conversation had 
 followed their talk in relation to the camping 
 trip proposed by Mr. Adams, on which Matt was 
 
 103 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 so hopeful of becoming a member of the party. 
 Mr. Woodhull had been to the city helping his 
 firm out with some emergency work, and had re- 
 turned to take up once more his upbuilding vaca- 
 tion. No time had as yet been set for the trip, 
 only preliminary arrangements had been gone 
 over. 
 
 "I s'pose it can be fixed some way so you can 
 go," said Aunt Mary, "but it takes a week away 
 from your work an' leaves me alone. You make 
 more'n you ever did a berryin'." "Frogs lasts all 
 summer an* berries don't," said the boy; " 'sides, 
 Mr. Adams said he would pay me to look up a 
 boat an' get things we'd want. He asked me 
 how much I was makin' a week froggin', an' if 
 he pays me I won't kick none, 'cause I want some 
 traps more'n I've got for mus'rats this winter an' 
 a snappin' turtle hook an' spear." "Snappin' 
 turtles don't bother us none," said his aunt, "an' 
 I don't see what you need to bother 'em for." 
 "The folks what buys my frogs asked Mr. Wood- 
 hull if I could get 'em some in the wintertime; 
 said they'd pay me for 'em." "You'll be a sellin' 
 of all the trash in the brooks, looks like," she said, 
 "but I don't see how you can get 'em in the win- 
 tertime." Matt said nothing, but went out, and, 
 gathering up his frog trappings, went away 
 whistling. 
 
 Mr. Adams was at the house when he returned 
 in the evening and wanted him to go with him 
 the following day over to a pond some miles 
 
 104 
 
FISHING FOR CARP 
 
 away. There were some carp to be had there, he 
 was told, and he wanted to give them a trial. 
 Matt knew nothing of these fish, and was not 
 acquainted with the pond mentioned. While he 
 knew of it he had never been to it, so he could 
 give no information as to its size or depth. They 
 were to drive over about noon and Matt was to 
 supply worms. Mr. Adams said he would pro- 
 vide the other bait himself, not mentioning the 
 kind necessary. "I don't know nothin' about 
 'em," said the boy. "What kind of hooks an' 
 poles shall I take.?" He was told to take stout 
 poles and to bring along all the hooks he had, as 
 they might find other fish than carp there. "How 
 big are they?" asked the lad, interested in any- 
 thing like fish, and particularly those he knew 
 nothing of. "Well, there's little ones and big 
 ones," said Mr. Adams, in a trifle teasing tone. 
 "I've caught them as heavy as twenty pounds." 
 "Not in ponds?" asked Matt, looking his surprise. 
 "Yes, I've seen them larger than that, but I 
 never have taken them myself." "Don't seems 
 'ough they'd get that big in on'y mill ponds," 
 said Matt. "What else do they bite on 'sides 
 worms?" "Well," replied Mr. Adams, "I've 
 caught them on corn and Hma beans and — " 
 "huckleberries an' punkins, I s'pose," broke in 
 Matt, who felt that Mr. Adams was poking fun 
 at him. Mr. Adams laughed heartily, always 
 taking delight in raising Matt's incredulous ire. 
 Then he continued: "They are really a queer 
 
 IOC 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 fish and have most pecuHar habits in their way 
 of Hfe, but, like everything else, it meets their 
 ends, and so they thrive." "Any other kinds of 
 fish there?" asked the boy in a tone of voice 
 which denoted his incredulity about lima beans 
 and corn as a fish bait. "Yes," said Mr. Adams, 
 "the man who owned the place several years ago 
 had crappies put in with the carp." "What's 
 them.''" he was asked in the boy's quick, jerky 
 way. "A much smaller fish than the carp, but 
 excellent eating and good sport in the taking," 
 replied Mr. Adams. "Meet me where Mr. Wood- 
 hull boards about eleven o'clock and we'll go." 
 The lad went for frogs early in the morning, 
 coming home in good time to reach the appointed 
 place at eleven o'clock. He was talking to Mr. 
 Woodhull when Mr. Adams drove up in a light 
 market wagon. Their equipment was soon in the 
 wagon. Matt seated himself on the bottom, 
 with his feet swinging from the rear, while their 
 poles extended out back. "S'pose we'll get some 
 lima bean fish," he said as they started. Mr. 
 Adams nudged the other man with his elbow 
 and made no reply. Matt noticed the action, 
 and more than ever was convinced that he was 
 being joked in the matter. As they came to a 
 crossroads they overtook a team driven by his 
 enemy, Ned Southard. As they passed close to 
 each other Matt did not see who it was until a 
 trifle past the wagon, but the recognition was 
 mutual and Southard, grasping the heavy whip 
 
 106 
 
FISHING FOR CARP 
 
 at his side, aimed a vicious swing at the despoiler 
 of his curly locks. Matt swung quickly to one 
 side deftly avoiding the blow, and with fingers 
 twirling at his nose shouted tauntingly, boy- 
 fashion, "Got any ol' hair to sell?" He knew he 
 was too well protected to fear any other manner 
 of assault and enjoyed the scowling looks which 
 followed him down the road. The two men were 
 engaged in earnest conversation, so the boy was 
 left to his own reflection. He was a rough country 
 boy, knowing but little of the ways of Hfe outside 
 his own narrow sphere, being sought after by men 
 experienced in world affairs and of highly refined 
 natures, and he was logician enough to know that 
 he was imbibing much from them in the way of 
 upbuilding, knowledge, and character, x-^nd to 
 them his frank and kindly nature, coupled with 
 his quaint manner of speech, ever appealed. 
 While his observation and knowledge of the ways 
 of the folks of the woods and water unconsciously 
 transformed him into a juvenile "Natty Bumppo," 
 who would much rather know the ways of mice 
 than of men. 
 
 When they arrived at their destination they 
 found a large pond which had been raised for the 
 purpose of boating and cutting ice in the winter. 
 The first owner, who had passed away some years 
 since, had secured several varieties of fish and 
 installed them in the waters, where they had 
 thrived well. The present owner, a genial, talk- 
 ative man of but Httle culture, freely granted 
 
 107 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 them the privilege of fishing and loaned them a 
 boat and a pair of oars. "The's some big carps 
 in there," he said, "We get one once in a while, 
 but they are much harder to get than they are 
 good to eat, though once in a while they don't go 
 so bad. A sort of a dude feller was over here las' 
 week and he got three good ones. It rained some 
 — they don't seem to bite much v/hen the sun 
 shines bright — ^jes' 'fore dark or before sun-up is 
 best." The man was talkative and his tongue ran 
 with apparent ease. "This feller had several 
 kinds of baits, an' said he had ketched 'em with 
 lima beans once or twice." Matt straightened 
 up. "Lima beans again," he thought. "I'll bet 
 Mr. Adams told him to say that when he went to 
 the barn after him. He's a-stringin' me." Mr. 
 Woodhull rowed the boat, heading it well up to- 
 ward several treetops which had fallen into the 
 water. "Such places are the best for crappies," 
 he said; "they lie in the shadows of bank and 
 brush." "Your poles are too heavy to have good 
 sport with these fish," said Mr. Adams. "We'll 
 go ashore and cut some long birch ones, just 
 heavy enough to make a good weight whip." 
 Matt went ashore and soon returned with what 
 Mr. Adams said were first-rate ones. " 'Taint no 
 fun yankin' fish oiiten' the water soon's they bite; 
 I like to see 'em scoot around," said the lad, as 
 he proceeded to trim the poles to his liking. "I 
 thought maybe you would bring only the heavier 
 lines with you, and so I thought this would be 
 
 lo8 
 
FISHING FOR CARP 
 
 good," said Mr. Adams, as he produced some 
 heavy linen thread which he had carefully waxed. 
 "This works well with small hsh and will last for 
 several trips it cared for; besides, it will land a 
 good-sized fish if well handled — the same hooks 
 we used for perch are good." Mr. Adams used a 
 very light split-bamboo, much the same in weight 
 as a fly-rod, but shorter. "Cast well up to the 
 treetops; we'll get them there if at all, as they lie 
 in the shade." 
 
 The boy was rewarded with the first bite and 
 his cork went away with a series of sharp nibbles 
 and then went down with a rush and out of sight. 
 Then he struck. His slender whip-like pole bent 
 nearly double and the line cut the water clear 
 around the boat, while the men raised their tackle 
 to give the fish full play. "Gee, but he's a sport!" 
 cried the delighted Pvlatt, as Mr. Woodhull slipped 
 the net under the fish and laid it in the boat. 
 
 Here was a fish which neither Mr. Woodhull 
 nor the boy had ever seen a specimen of before; 
 much like a sunfish in shape, but greenish-bronze 
 in color and darker freckle-like markings, with 
 mouth and head quite like a white perch. Its 
 weight was about one pound. "It's a good one," 
 said Mr. Adams. The boy gloated over it, closely 
 examining its fins and all points with interest. 
 "Seems 'ough it intended to stay in the water 
 after it was hooked," he said, as much to himself 
 as for other ears. "I guess if they growed to ten 
 pounds they'd mos' do it." He baited his hook 
 
 109 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 and resumed fishing. "Don't make any noise on 
 the bottom of the boat," admonished Mr. Adams. 
 "They are very shy, and will leave the neighbor- 
 hood if disturbed that way. 
 
 "There are no fish better known in Southern 
 waters. They are fished for a great deal. They 
 are generally found in muddy waters, and will 
 take minnows as well as worms and sometimes 
 pieces of fish. They are called 'strawberry bass' 
 by a good many people. They look much alike, 
 but are not the same fish. They are good fish to 
 eat, put up a good fight when hooked with light 
 tackle, and should be stocked in all the waters 
 in this part of the country." The lad was never 
 more interested than when listening to Mr. Adams 
 when he was giving information about fish which 
 were strange to him. 
 
 Several more crappies were taken from the 
 same place, but none quite so large as the first 
 one. Just before leaving for the channel to try 
 for carp, Matt had a bite and threw into the boat 
 a beautifully colored fish, rose-tinted on the sides, 
 shading to a deep orange on the belly, with a 
 bronze-green back. "It's a long-eared sunfish," 
 said Mr. Adams, admiringly, "and they are rare 
 enough here." "I didn't know fish had ears," 
 said the boy quietly, and the men laughed. "See 
 this bluish-colored spot running back from the 
 gills .^ Hold it up so. Now you see what looks 
 like large ears lying along the side. They are 
 only peculiar markings of the fish, but they look 
 
 no 
 
FISHING FOR CARP 
 
 like ears. These fish are all along the coast from 
 Maine down, but in some sections are scarce. 
 They build nests like birds, only they make them 
 out of gravel at the edge of the water. They fan 
 the small pebbles away with their fins, moving 
 the larger ones with their mouths until they have 
 a hollow in which to deposit their eggs. They 
 then stand guard until they are hatched, driving 
 away all other fish which may come around. I 
 have sat quietly on the bank watching their 
 movements and, putting a small stick in the 
 water, I have pushed the mother fish more than 
 a toot away from her nest when she would return 
 not in the least frightened. There are several 
 varieties of sunfish, the largest being the kind 
 you have taken, and they have always been 
 hunted by the small boy in the brooks. But with 
 trout rod and fly just at sundown over shallow 
 water; when they are to be found as large as this 
 one they are fished for by men, as they will take 
 a fly quickly, if it is a dark one, always coming to 
 the top of the water for it. They will live in 
 almost any kind of water and are good pan fishes. 
 As we have more than a dozen crappies, suppose 
 we get our tackle ready and see if we can get a 
 carp. They are at times a very difficult fish to 
 catch; at other times they are taken easily. I 
 brought some 4-0 hooks along, as they require 
 about that size, but not much larger. We will 
 row slowly and keep our eyes open. We may 
 find one rooting." Matt turned on Mr. Adams a 
 
 III 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 look of surprise and inquiry, while Mr. Woodhull 
 said quietly, "They do root around some when 
 they are feeding, I have been told." "Yes," re- 
 turned Mr. Adams, "I have been after them 
 many times where they were feeding in shallow 
 water and could plainly see the mud streaks rising 
 to the surface as they worked around on the bot- 
 tom in search of worms and grubs. Let's try 
 around here, and if we do not get any we can go 
 down nearer the dam where the water is deeper; 
 but they usually work around where the water is 
 not of the deepest." Mr. Adams opened his 
 basket and began taking out such articles as he 
 would need. First the larger reel was put on the 
 heavier rod, after setting a tin can down on the 
 seat by him. From the can he took portions of 
 the dough and, rolling it into pellets the size of 
 marbles, began throwing them into the water on 
 all sides of the boat, explaining as he did so that 
 it was just flour and water mixed to a stiff dough. 
 Matt said never a word, but sat watching it all 
 as he adjusted his hook to the line, then began 
 putting on a worm. "I would put on three or 
 four large ones," said Mr. Adams. "These fish 
 like a good-sized bait." "Don't look like good 
 sense to me, 'ough," replied the boy; "hsh don't 
 find worms in bunches much, I guess." "Eels do, 
 on bobs, don't they?" asked Mr. Woodhull. 
 "Yes," said Matt, "but you have to have a 
 bunch so's they'll last." Following the advice, 
 he put on several worms and setting the float 
 
 1 12 
 
FISHING FOR CARP 
 
 so the bait was almost at the bottom, began 
 fishing. 
 
 While talking, Mr. Adams had opened a large 
 can, which Matt saw contained corn which had 
 been cooked until it was swollen and soft. This 
 he scattered about over the water in a liberal 
 manner, and it slowly sank to the bottom. "Here, 
 chick, chick, chick," mimicked Matt, as the corn 
 was scattered about. Mr. Adams, watching Matt 
 closely, set a can down by the boy, entirely un- 
 observed by him until later on. Turning around, 
 the boy's eye fell upon it and Hma beans met his 
 view. 
 
 His first impulse was to throw the whole thing 
 overboard, but they were not his, and he made no 
 comment at the moment, but watched the two 
 men slyly exchanging winks. Later on Mr. 
 Adams put several grains of corn on his hook and 
 helped Mr. Woodhull with the dough. He had a 
 small box of it with cotton kneaded through it 
 so it would hang to the hook better. The larger 
 can contained plain dough with which to bait the 
 grounds. Presently Mr. Adams took up the can 
 of beans, which had been cooked just enough to 
 make them swollen and soft, and began throwing 
 them on the water. When this had been done he 
 set the can down, and Matt, reaching over, took 
 two of the beans and the same number of grains 
 of corn. Then with his toe scraping aside a 
 quantity of dirt which lay in the bottom of the 
 boat, he deposited them at the bottom, and care- 
 ? 113 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 fully covering them, he patted the earth down 
 and resumed his fishing. No one said a word for 
 several minutes. At last Mr. Woodhull asked: 
 "What is your idea, Matt?" "I'm plantin' corn 
 'n beans so's to raise suc'tash for ketchin' carps," 
 he returned. "Might's well have it all on one 
 cob like corn, or meb'e it'll grow in a pod, I do' 
 know." Both men fairly exploded with laughter 
 over the whimsical idea and a little later the boy 
 giggled. Mr. Adams, removing the corn from 
 his hook, selected two of the largest and whitest 
 beans and carefully put them on the hook, passing 
 it through the heart of each. Matt watched the 
 process without a word, expecting to see him 
 strip them off and apply some other bait, but he 
 dropped the hook into the water as it was and 
 after a lapse of perhaps ten minutes said quietly: 
 "There's one at my bait now." Looking over the 
 side of the boat, the line could be seen moving 
 slowly away. Then he struck and hooked his 
 fish and a struggle was on. The pliant rod was 
 bent in all shapes as the fish held to the bottom, 
 going this way and that, never swift in its move- 
 ments, but doggedly determined to hold the bot- 
 tom. Mr. Adams made no effort to bring it to 
 the surface, merely keeping the line taut so the 
 hook would hold firm. Roily water soon showed 
 at the top, proving that the fish was trying to dis- 
 gorge the hook by driving its jaws into the mud. 
 After possibly ten minutes it began to weaken 
 and was brought to the surface and Mr. Woodhull 
 
 114 
 
FISHING FOR CARP 
 
 netted it as it came up near him — a beautiful 
 golden-bronze fish of perhaps twelve pounds in 
 weight. Matt was in ecstacies. "Gee!" he said; 
 "if I could hook one like that I'd see it nights^ an' 
 on beans, too; gosh!" "They are the most peculiar 
 fish we have in any of our waters," said Mr. 
 Adams. "At times they will take almost any kind 
 of bait; then nothing seems to suit them and it is 
 almost impossible to get one, so it is best to be 
 provided with several kinds when on a trip. 
 They are very fond of vegetable substances, as 
 well as grubs and worms. Dough will sometimes 
 take them when all else fails. Worms don't seem 
 to be what they are looking for; try beans." The 
 boy looked a trifle crestfallen. He had ridiculed 
 the bean idea, so that to resort to them was like 
 touching a slightly tender corn, but he wanted 
 fish and he was willing to make a sacrifice of 
 prejudice in order to gain a material conquest, 
 so he adopted beans, as did Mr. Woodhull a 
 little later. An hour passed without any more 
 evidence of carp, and they had renewed their baits 
 several times. Matt again resorted to worms. 
 At last he felt a pull at his tackle and was all at- 
 tention in a trice. "I felt something good an' 
 strong," he whispered to Mr. Adams. "Mab'e 
 it's an eel; it seemed to just back away with the 
 hook." "Wait and hold perfectly still," he was 
 advised. "They are very suspicious at times." 
 A moment later he said, "Somethin's at it again." 
 A vigorous pull convinced him that the fish was 
 
 115 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 hooked. He set the end of his pole up sharply 
 and knew he had connected with something of 
 Hfe and much weight. The pole, while quite 
 stout, was sharply bent, and the fish made a more 
 vigorous fight than the one Mr. Adams had caught 
 earlier in the day. It went around the boat 
 several times, not swiftly, but with the same de- 
 termined spirit of keeping at the bottom, and the 
 mud was soon to be seen rising to the top of the 
 water as before. The heavier pole put more ten- 
 sion on the fish, and in about the same length of 
 time it came to the top and Mr. Adams this time 
 made ready to get it into the net. When it ap- 
 peared at the surface and Matt saw it he gasped, 
 then dropping on his knees in the bottom of the 
 boat, his attitude and expression of face became 
 a fit study for an artist's brush. "Steady now. 
 Just bring him a little nearer. There now, 
 quietly," interspersed by remarks from Matt such 
 as, "Please, Mr. Adams, don't let me lose that 
 fish. I'll never hook another like him, never." 
 As it once more swayed beyond the reach of the 
 net he said plaintively, "Won't you please pray, 
 Mr. Woodhull? You ain't busy." It is doubtful 
 if the boy was really aware of just what he was 
 saying, so absorbed was he in the capture and so 
 fearful the fish would escape. At last, however, 
 the net was worked under its head and with a 
 quick lift the body slid in and laid in the boat. 
 Matt's ecstacies knew no bounds. He was on his 
 knees beside the fish and had taken its measure 
 
 ii6 
 
FISHING FOR CARP 
 
 several times with his outstretched hands. "I'd 
 a' never b'Heved there was such a fish in all cre- 
 ation, 'cept a whale," he said. The carp would 
 weigh fully eighteen pounds, and was a fine speci- 
 men in all particulars. Well might the boy be 
 proud. Mr. Woodhull later took one of about 
 twelve pounds and was correspondingly happy. 
 As they rowed down to the landing place Mr. 
 Adams said: "Carp is one of the most widely 
 diffused fishes on the globe, and embraces a very 
 numerous family, some of which are very small, 
 such as the goldfish kept in glass jars as pets." 
 Mr. Adams gave his carp to the man who owned 
 the property and kept the crappies for his own 
 eating. Owing to the weight of Matt's fish, he 
 very kindly drove down to the cottage with him 
 as much to see the exhibition Matt would make 
 before his aunt with his giant fish as anything else. 
 She was out in the yard as he drove up, and as it 
 was not dark yet Matt called, as he hung the fish 
 over his shoulder, "Aunt Mary, I got him." "Well, 
 for land sakes," she said, "what is it? How'd you 
 get it?" "I ketched him," said the boy. "You 
 never done no such thing. Matt Buckley," she 
 said spitefully. "I didn't know there was such 
 fish outen the ocean." *'S'posin' you hadn't a 
 let me gone?" said Matt. 
 
 117 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 Tales the River told to Matt 
 
 It was a long tramp that Matt took one day, 
 looking for a suitable boat for use on their vaca- 
 tion trip. Boats there were in plenty, but one 
 with sufficient capacity for three men with food 
 and tent was not an easy matter; besides, few 
 men with a really good boat would be willing to 
 let it to a mere boy, to be gone a week or more. 
 He realized this when he began bargaining, but 
 he finally found a man who, when told that he 
 was doing the errand for two men who would 
 give it good care and were willing to pay him for 
 its use, gave his consent. The boat was of the 
 type known among bay and river fishermen as 
 "half-round bottom," built of cedar, and had bow 
 and stern lockers capable of holding ample store 
 of provisions. 
 
 The lad had counted on finding a boat about 
 four miles down the river, but he had gone a good 
 seven miles before finding what he deemed would 
 fill the bill of instructions as given him by Mr. 
 Adams. 
 
 He could not set the exact date on which they 
 would call for it, but it made no difl^erence to the 
 owner, as he would not need it until the fall fish- 
 
 ii8 
 
TALES THE RIVER TOLD 
 
 ing season began. Matt reached home about the 
 middle of the afternoon, dusty and really tired, 
 as he had followed the river winding part of the 
 way back, which had materially increased the 
 distance home. Mr. Woodhull was sitting on the 
 little porch talking with Aunt Mary as he came 
 through the gate. She had formed a great liking 
 for the man. He was so frail-looking when she 
 first met him, and now, while far from robust, 
 the short summer had put elasticity in his step, 
 color in his cheeks, as well as a perceptible round- 
 ness to his figure, all of which was pleasing to her 
 and good to behold. 
 
 They had been discussing Matt pretty freely 
 before his arrival. Mr. Woodhull spoke of him 
 as one who was never cruel to any helpless thing, 
 and whose language, while droll in the extreme 
 at times, was never of a low order. 
 
 His aunt, while "keepin','' as she said, "a tight 
 rein on him," knew in her heart that he was not a 
 bad boy, and that each month added to her com- 
 forts through his increased earnings in a way 
 different from all others. He would rather make 
 one dollar catching frogs or "giggin' " suckers 
 than to make two at other work, even if he had to 
 work twice as hard in order to do it. "An' so," 
 she said, "I don't understand him at all. He'll 
 fairly freeze his fingers off in winter to get a 
 mus'rat, an' when he snares a rabbit he acts as 
 if he'd done somethin' grand. I keep him in 
 school in winter an' he learns, but you can't get 
 
 119 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 him away from his outlandish way of talkin'; 
 seems born in him." Aunt Mary sat thoughtful 
 for a few minutes and then said: "I do wish 
 there was some way to get him and Ned Southard 
 on better terms. He's older'n bigger'n Matt, an' 
 I worry some, fearin' he'll sometime hurt him. 
 He's picked on him for years, for why I don't 
 know, but Matt manages, as he says, to keep 
 about square, an' he does, an' sometimes a little 
 more." In her quiet laugh it was easy to trace a 
 little note of triumph. 
 
 On seeing his friend, Matt greeted him with his 
 free-and-easy "Hello," and seating himself on the 
 porch, leaned his head back against one of the 
 posts and continued: "I s'posed I could find a 
 boat nearer'n I did, but none would do like Mr. 
 Adams said he wanted till I got the one I did. 
 It's been some trip. I had to promise him two 
 dollars for the use of it for the trip. Wonder if 
 Mr. Adams'll kick? But she's a good boat an' 
 lots o' room, an' say," he went on without stop- 
 ping for reply, "I seen a mink carryin' a fish down 
 'long the river; never seen one with a fish 'fore. 
 Wish't I'd had a gun." "You're forever talkin' 
 gun," broke in his aunt. "I wish there was 
 never none made. You'd blow your foolish head 
 off first thing," and she began busying herself 
 in the kitchen. Meanwhile many things were 
 discussed by man and boy. The latter had not 
 had dinner, and he knew his aunt was preparing 
 something for him, and she soon appeared with 
 
 1 20 
 
TALES THE RIVER TOLD 
 
 two egg sandwiches and a glass of milk, which 
 were readily disposed of by the hungry lad. 
 
 The morning of their departure was dull and 
 heavy clouds gave promise of approaching rain. 
 The two men, with Mr. Adams' hired man, drove 
 up early, but not too early for Matt, as his poles 
 were already at the gate. Aunt Mary had fussed 
 about since before daylight, grumbling consider- 
 ably about "wastin' time on fool fishin' trips." 
 Matt had dug a basket of sweet potatoes from the 
 garden, and while disposing of them his aunt 
 produced a boiled ham from somewhere. She 
 had bought it and prepared it without his knowl- 
 edge, and he was delighted to feel she was con- 
 tributing a share of the food. A jar of preserves 
 went in next and some eggs. "I shouldn't a been 
 so foolish as to let you go on no trip like this," 
 she put at him. "It ruins boys lettin' of 'em run 
 off here'n there. Lan's sakes!" she continued, 
 "go an' put on your shoes this minute, an' for 
 once roll your trousers down an' look like folks. 
 You'd be goin' without a coat, I s'pose, too." 
 This lecture took place before the arrival of the 
 wagon, which, with tent and other paraphernalia 
 and with Matt's poles as well as those of the tent 
 sticking out behind, looked motley enough. 
 "Now see he don't get into no fool trouble," she 
 said to Mr. Adams as they prepared to start. 
 Matt had seated himself on top of the tent, which 
 gave him a much-elevated position. "I hope we 
 see Ned Southard as we go along. I wouldn't like 
 
 121 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 to leave without saying a good-bye to him." "If 
 you'd keep that pert tongue of yours to yourself 
 more you'd have less trouble with him, in my 
 opinion," snapped his aunt, then adding as the 
 wagon rolled away, "I declare you look jes like 
 gipsies." "Your aunt thinks a lot of you," said 
 Mr. Woodhull, "although she wouldn't say as 
 much to your face. You tease her some, yet you 
 stick to her, and she knows it and says so." 
 
 "Well," replied Matt, "she's walloped me good 
 an' plenty in times past, an' won't stand for no 
 sass yet, still I don't reckon she'd stan' by and see 
 me die 'thout givin' me pep'mint or castor oil." 
 As they jogged along Matt's attention was 
 centered on a hawk which had marked down a 
 meadow lark for a meal, and he noticed it would 
 not strike its intended victim while it was on the 
 ground. As soon as the lark would take wing the 
 hawk would give pursuit, then would continue 
 circling when the bird dropped again. 
 
 How the contest ended he never knew, as he 
 suddenly became aware that there were cows in 
 the road, and upon looking around saw Southard 
 driving them from the lane toward an adjoining 
 pasture. Southard was standing by the roadside, 
 wondering at the strange outfit when he espied 
 who was on the wagon. To offer any attack was 
 not to be thought of, as Matt had ample protec- 
 tion, but he couldn't restrain sarcasm. "Hello, 
 Freckles!" he shouted. "Leavin' the country?" 
 "Well," came the quick reply, "suckers has quit 
 
 122 
 
TALES THE RIVER TOLD 
 
 bitin', an' not bein' glued down, I go 'bout where 
 I want to." Here was a double taunt, and South- 
 ard grabbed a clod of dirt and hurled it with all 
 his force at the head of the sharp-tongued lad. 
 Matt dodged, and the driver, who had turned his 
 head at the conversation between the two boys, 
 received the lump of dirt on the side of the head, 
 sending his hat spinning to the ground. He looked 
 just in time to see who had fired the clod, and 
 dropping the reins into the hands of Mr. Adams, 
 and whalebone whip in hand, he was on the ground 
 nearly as soon as the hat. Southard took in the 
 situation at a glance and started for the fence at 
 full speed, but he had a nimble pursuer, and as he 
 vaulted the fence he was caught by the whip in 
 such a manner as to raise a cloud of dust from the 
 seat of his trousers, which was followed by a howl 
 of agony. 
 
 Matt was on the ground by the time the race 
 had started and had picked up tl;ie driver's hat. 
 Southard, finding he was to be pursued no further, 
 stood nursing the livid welt he had received from 
 the cut of the whip and hurling invectives at both 
 Matt and the driver. As they started away Matt 
 observed: "That ol' whalebone's some whip. Gee! 
 did you hear her whistle.^" 
 
 They found their boat in readiness when they 
 reached their destination, and received much in- 
 formation from the boat owner as to where good 
 camping sites might be found. It was about ten 
 miles to where the river broadened out into a bay, 
 
 123 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 and it did not get much wider than fifty feet until 
 it reached the bay. There was, however, good 
 depth of water and many very deep holes or pools 
 along the entire course. About a mile from one of 
 the best camping sites there was a store where 
 supplies of all kinds could be procured. The 
 site spoken of would be easily recognized, as it 
 was where a high, gravelly point ran down to the 
 water, and on the summit stood two large cedar 
 trees. Their course being down-stream, there was 
 little rowing to be done, just enough to keep the 
 boat guided right, and they thought they would 
 reach their destination by two o'clock at the 
 latest. Mr. Adams told his driver he would get 
 word to him when to come for them, and they 
 began dropping down the stream. Each of the 
 men had an oar outboard on opposite sides of 
 the boat to steady the drift and make the bends 
 in the stream. High banks ran down to the water 
 most of the way, and in the main they were 
 heavily wooded, so that they were almost con- 
 stantly shaded from the sun. Giant oak, ash, 
 and hickory trees threw their arms across the 
 stream so that at times they touched. To Matt 
 it seemed a wilderness, and to him, like all nature 
 lovers, there was an unspeakable grandeur in 
 solitude, and he was impressed by it in a manner 
 which grew until it governed all his actions in 
 maturer years. Fallen trees impeded their passage 
 from time to time, but by the use of the ax such 
 obstructions were overcome and in due time their 
 
 124 
 
< 
 
TALES THE RIVER TOLD 
 
 goal was reached. They were soon hard at work, 
 Mr. Adams proving his perfect knowledge of 
 camp construction and detail. Their tent, which 
 was commodious, was soon up and arrangements 
 for their outdoor fire made complete by securing 
 two small-size green logs and by facing them 
 slightly with the ax the flattened side laid upper- 
 most, so that pans and kettles would set on them 
 without sliding off, leaving but a few inches of 
 space between them for the fire. Mr. Woodhull 
 and Matt were much surprised to see how very 
 small a fire would serve to cook a good meal 
 when made in this manner. Net hammocks had 
 been provided and swung low, supported by the 
 stout tent poles and stakes driven into the ground, 
 and a pair of blankets each completed their sleep- 
 ing arrangements. There was plenty of wood 
 lying around ready to be broken up with the ax. 
 
 Then followed their first meal — and such a 
 meal! Aunt Mary's ham in generous slices, bread 
 and butter in plenty, with coffee made from the 
 waters of a spring which bubbled up from the foot 
 of the gravel bank. 
 
 Their very souls were filled with gladness by it 
 all. Mr. WoodhuU's health was rapidly flowing 
 back to him because of his basking in God's free 
 air and sunshine. Mr. Adams was temporarily 
 at rest from the cares of his business, and Matt, 
 the restless, discerning boy, with nothing escap- 
 ing his notice, was more than glad. A crow sat 
 well across the river on a dead treetop, sending 
 
 125 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 out an occasional complaining "caw," and the boy 
 wondered if there was still a belated, not fully- 
 fledged youngster of her care which he might find 
 over there somewhere and look over. A brown- 
 throated thrush sent out from a nearby thicket 
 its notes of melody, which, mingling in a strange 
 way with the suppressed gurgle of the stream 
 flowing at their feet, made a symphony of sound 
 that city streets never knew. The sinking sun at 
 their backs sent its rays slanting across the head- 
 waters of the little bay, glimpses of which might 
 be caught between the trees from where they sat 
 and made a vista of rest which filled them all with 
 content. 
 
 A waking dream filled the boy's mind a long 
 time after the two others were asleep: Would he 
 be able later to go by himself and pass as many 
 days or months as he chose in some wilderness of 
 woods and waters and there regale himself with 
 all the wonders they contained? His boyhood 
 wish was wonderfully prophetic of the years of 
 mature life. 
 
 Bang! Mr. Adams had brought along his shot- 
 gun, but had said nothing about it, and had man- 
 aged to keep the leather case from sight, and so 
 he had fired what he called his "sunrise gun." 
 Although fully light it still lacked somewhat of 
 that time. "Gosh a'mighty!" exclaimed Matt, as 
 he came from the tent rubbing his eyes. "I 
 thought it was what Aunt Mary calls the 'crack 
 o' doom.' 1 sure was sleepin' some." While 
 
 126 
 
TALES THE RIVER TOLD 
 
 Mr. Woodhull, who had also appeared on the 
 scene, simply said, "I never had such a night's 
 sleep." Matt had never before seen a breech- 
 loading shotgun, and he examined it to his heart's 
 content, breaking it down and closing it many 
 times, after which he said, when trying it to his 
 shoulder, "I bet I could shoot her good." Flap- 
 jacks, bacon, eggs, and coffee comprised the morn- 
 ing meal, and when over Matt remarked: "It's 
 lucky we ain't got a dog along to eat up the 
 leavin's, cause there ain't none." The owner of 
 the boat had put a crab net in, saying as he did 
 so, "You'll need that for catchin' bait." He also 
 put in a piece of old mosquito net, with the re- 
 mark, "If you want shrimps, Hne your net with 
 that." With tackle aboard, they started away 
 from the httle landing and were soon out into the 
 open waters of the small bay. They were now on 
 salt water and in the early morning hour could 
 plainly sense it in their breathing. It was the first 
 experience the boy had ever had with salt water 
 and he scooped a small portion up in his hands 
 and tasted it, after which he spat it out, simply 
 saying, "She's salt, sure 'nough." Then, "What 
 you goin' to do for bait?" he asked Mr. Adams, 
 who was leisurely pulling his oar. "Well," repHed 
 Mr. Adams, "we want some crabs the first thing, 
 and then we must hunt for deep water for fishing. 
 We may have much better luck back up the river 
 in the deep water there. At this season many 
 kinds of fish stay where salt and fresh waters 
 
 127 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 just meet. Where they were rowing the water 
 was very shallow and patches of what Mr. Adams 
 called "eel grass" were all about. He dropped the 
 anchor to keep the boat from drifting and was 
 soon at work with the crab net, running it care- 
 fully around under the grass. xA.t the second trial 
 he brought out a large crab, which lay perfectly 
 quiet in the net. "Now!" he exclaimed, "we'll 
 have some eating which kings can't get. That's 
 a soft crab, and a great delicacy. Put some ot 
 this wet grass on it and lay it in the boat where 
 the sun can't reach it," he told Matt as he handed 
 it to him. The lad hesitated a moment before 
 taking it, asking, "Won't it bite?" "No," re- 
 plied Mr. Adams, "it has just shed its shell and 
 is perfectly helpless." 
 
 128 
 
CHAPTER X 
 Crabs and Crabbing 
 
 Catching crabs was a new experience for Matt 
 and he reveled in the sport. He was here, there, 
 and everywhere. They were the hard crabs, the 
 swift swimmers, and it required quick work to 
 gather them into the net. "These will do for 
 boiling and the soft ones we will fry," said Mr. 
 Adams. "What we want are the shedders for 
 bait." "What's them?" asked the lad quickly. 
 "They are the same as the soft ones, but they have 
 not yet cast their shells. It is the only way in 
 which a crab can grow," continued Mr. x-^dams, 
 "when they are freed from the hard shells, and it 
 is one of the many queer affairs of nature that 
 when they are in that condition they make the 
 very best of bait for any fish, whether salt or 
 fresh water." 
 
 In a pocket of water formed by some sunken 
 driftwood which had been washed down-stream 
 by some freshet of previous years were to be seen 
 several crabs clinging to the seaweed and sides 
 of the wood, and they were very slow in their 
 movements when disturbed. "These are 'shed- 
 ders,' as we call them, and they have hidden here 
 as best they could until they have released them- 
 selves from their old shells. Every fish that 
 9 129 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 swims hunts for them when they are soft, so that 
 the crabs get away up in the headwaters and hide 
 among wreckage and grass to escape their enemies. 
 You will see these are easily taken," said Mr. 
 Adams, and he dipped the net down and under 
 one, which he raised to the surface without any 
 effort to escape, and he tested it by pressing his 
 finger against the underside of the crab at its 
 extreme end, when the shell gave way as easily 
 as an eggshell, and breaking the end of the nipper 
 claws off, it was rendered harmless. Matt, al- 
 though living within twenty miles of the sea- 
 shore, had seen but few crabs and knew nothing 
 of their nature beyond that they were dangerous 
 to the fingers and that they were good to eat. 
 Mr. Woodhull was but little better informed and 
 was equally interested. While the catching went 
 on they were cared for as Mr. Adams suggested, 
 and they were pleased when he told them there 
 was much to be told in relation to crabs and their 
 ways of life. What surprised the boy the most 
 was the speed with which the hard crabs went 
 through the water, and he studied them thought- 
 fully. While Mr. Adams seemed pretty well versed 
 in relation to fresh-water fish of most kinds, he 
 seemed to have full knowledge of the natural 
 history of everything in and about salt water, 
 and he greatly interested the boy. 
 
 When Mr. Adams said they had sufficient for 
 their present needs. Matt sat down on the side of 
 
 130 
 
CRABS AND CRABBING 
 
 the boat and was buried in thought, his eyes 
 wandering from point to point. "Gosh!" he ex- 
 claimed in his usual manner when in great earnest- 
 ness, "1 knew the water was runnin' down this 
 way," pointing toward the beach, "not more'n a 
 half hour ago, an' now it's runnin' back this way. 
 I've been wonderin' if my head was wrong; 
 'sides, the water's deeper here'n it was an* the 
 sand ridge over there is mos' covered up, an' it 
 was bare when we first came down." 
 
 "The tide has turned and is now running in 
 from the sea," said Mr. Adams; "it is never com- 
 pletely still." To the boy the action of the tides 
 was a mystery. While he might have heard of 
 such a thing, it had meant nothing to him until 
 confronted with the phenomena. The sun being 
 intensely hot, the two men decided it would be 
 better to row back to camp and rest in the shade 
 until the afternoon, when fishing would be more 
 comfortable. As they came to the camp, the 
 boy's eyes were fastened on the bank opposite, 
 and he sat musing for a long while without com- 
 ment. Presently he said: "Seems 'ough things 
 or me is loony. When we went away the' was no 
 roots showin' over there, an' now they are all bare, 
 an' the water's low somehow." Mr. Adams led the 
 boy to a comfortable seat and gave him in detail 
 much information on the working of the tides, 
 saying that during each twenty-four hours there 
 were two complete flood and ebb tides, and of the 
 great benefit they were to all animal life, and how 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 they prevented stagnation of the waters, as well 
 as carrying down to the sea much effete matter 
 which would contaminate the banks along all rivers. 
 The moon's influence on the waters was a hard 
 subject for the boy's mind to grasp, and he sat, 
 as was his wont, burying his toe in the ground, 
 his earnest gray eyes fastened on the face of his 
 instructor, drinking in the knowledge which in 
 after years proved of such value to him. "There's 
 somethin' I'd like to know more," he said: "How 
 is it that the water runs up and down in the bay, 
 but alius runs one way here in the river?" The 
 boy's question was a most natural one, and has 
 been asked by many older people. "It doesn't," 
 said Mr. Adams; "it runs both ways and at the 
 same time." He then paused as he made the 
 above puzzling statement, well knowing it would 
 confuse the lad, and he waited to hear what re- 
 mark he would make on the subject, and it was 
 not long in coming. Matt's eyes were fastened 
 on a chipmunk which had run out on an old log 
 on the opposite bank, where it sat chattering its 
 complaint over the intrusion on its domain by the 
 visitors. Its jaws were greatly distended by what 
 was doubtless a quantity of seeds which it was 
 hiding for winter consumption. "Looks like he 
 had the mumps," said the boy. Here was a sub- 
 ject with which he was familiar, and the little 
 animal's method of carrying and storing its stock 
 of winter provender was to him nothing new. 
 Then reverting to the tide story, he said a little 
 
 1 ^x2 
 
CRABS AND CRABBING 
 
 petulantly: "Shucks! Might's well say that 
 stone," which he had just shied across the stream, 
 "goes an' comes back at the same time." Mr. 
 Adams was much amused, as he had expected 
 some such comment. He then said: "The water 
 has risen more than two inches on the old roots 
 over there while we have been sitting here, and 
 in a little while they will be completely covered. 
 As I said, the water is now running up from the 
 sea into the bay and from there up here, so now 
 the water at this point is running up-stream," 
 Matt made no reply, but arose and, picking up a 
 piece of light bark, threw it out on the water, 
 saying as he did so, "If she don't go down-stream 
 I'll eat her;" then, as if setting all matters at 
 rest, he added, "you can see 'thout tellin' she don' 
 come back none." Mr. Woodhull was highly 
 amused at the way Mr. Adams had the lad puz- 
 zled, but said nothing at that time. 
 
 "Is the water any higher on the roots now?" 
 Mr. Adams asked, after several more minutes of 
 waiting. "Course it's higher," was the answer, 
 "but that ain't tellin' me nothin' bout how it runs 
 up-stream, when all you've got to do is look an' 
 see her go down." Both men laughed, and Mr. 
 Adams, walking back to the tent, soon returned 
 with a small bottle into which he proceeded to 
 drop small pebbles until, on testing it in the water, 
 it would barely float. He then took one of Matt's 
 fishing poles, and placing the neck of the bottle 
 in the small fork left on the small end to prevent 
 
 U3 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 the line from slipping off, plunged the bottle to 
 the bottom of the pool, saying as he shook the 
 pole to loosen the bottle, "Look now where it 
 comes up." To Matt's amazement, a moment 
 later he saw it come to the surface several feet 
 up-stream from where it was thrown in. 
 
 He said never a word for several minutes, but 
 sat digging his toe into the bank in a most in- 
 dustrious manner, then straightening himself up, 
 asked pointedly: ''What in tarnation made that 
 bottle go up-stream 'till she come to the top 'nen 
 stop an' go down?" 
 
 Mr. Adams, feeling it was time to enlighten 
 the boy, said kindly: "My lad, this stream is 
 like so many things in life; we cannot tell by look- 
 ing at the surface what is taking place beneath 
 to surprise or deceive us. All tides everywhere 
 work from the bottom. Naturally the bottom 
 here is a little higher than it is in the bay, or the 
 water would not run down at any time. The 
 tremendous pressure of the tide in the sea, as I 
 said before, forces the water into the bay, then, as 
 it rises on up here, salt water, being denser or 
 heavier than fresh water, stays at the bottom, 
 and as the tide rises floats the fresh water to the 
 top which, having a natural fall, continues run- 
 ning down, but only at the very top, or just as 
 much as it is above the level of the water in the 
 bay. So you see, as I first said, the water at such 
 places as this actually runs both ways at once, 
 and usually makes ideal places for fishing, as fish 
 
 134 
 
CRABS AND CRABBING 
 
 gather around to partake of the food which is 
 usually to be met with." Before the tale was 
 finished the look on Matt's face indicated that his 
 mind had grasped the situation in an intelligent 
 manner, and his only remark was "Oh!" 
 
 Mr. Woodhull busied himself with gathering 
 material for a fire while the others attended to the 
 crabs, the hard ones being packed in a box and 
 covered with wet grass to wait for suppertime, 
 while the shedders were treated in much the 
 same manner, being packed in one of the 
 lockers of the boat. The boy watched with great 
 interest the process of dressing the soft crabs, 
 which were to be used for their dinner. Mr. 
 Adams then explained many things relating to 
 their habits and importance as food. The gills 
 were carefully removed and cracker dust, which 
 had been prepared by rolling crackers on a board, 
 sprinkled very liberally over the crab. "Never 
 under any circumstance cook a crab that has died 
 before being dressed, as it in some manner fre- 
 quently generates a poisonous gas in a very short 
 while after dying, and many cases of serious ill- 
 ness, and even death, have been caused through 
 lack of such precaution," said Mr. Adams. 
 
 Mr. Woodhull had a good fire going and pre- 
 pared a liberal supply of smoking-hot lard in a 
 frying pan into which the crabs were laid. Matt 
 had an observant eye for the whole proceeding, 
 and as they were laid out smoking hot and golden 
 brown on the plate, he said: "I do'n know if I'll 
 
 ^35 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 like 'em or not; they look jest like crackin' big 
 spiders." "If it was a brave man who first nego- 
 tiated a raw oyster, then he who first betook of a 
 fried soft crab was a hero," remarked Mr. Wood- 
 hull. 
 
 "Now don't hurt the feelings of your cook," 
 said Mr. Adams with a laugh. Sprinkling one 
 liberally with salt and adding a dash of mustard, 
 he laid it on the boy's plate, saying: "After you've 
 eaten one there won't be enough in the bay to 
 keep you supplied." Matt broke off one of the 
 legs and tasted of it rather gingerly, neither 
 of the men making any comment as he continued 
 eating until the crab had entirely disappeared, 
 then he passed his plate for another one, simply 
 remarking, "They're jest bully." After the meal 
 Matt was assigned the duty of dish washer, at 
 which he was no novice, his aunt having given him 
 full instructions in the past and having seen to it 
 that it was well done. 
 
 "There is but little use in fishing until the tide 
 is just about high," said Mr. Adams. "From then 
 on to low water is the best time. Shrimp and other 
 fish food which pass up with the tide drop back 
 as the water recedes, and it is then that fish usually 
 bite best in places like this." 
 
 The men lit their pipes and stretched them- 
 selves prone beneath a giant oak which stood near 
 the camp, while Matt strolled down to the water's 
 edge and made the same experiment with the 
 bottle and found the water still "runnin' up- 
 
 136 
 
CRABS AND CRABBING 
 
 stream," as he said. He sat down on the bank 
 and began tossing small pebbles into the water, 
 buried deeply in thought, with the ever-active toe 
 digging into the sod. Here was a new world 
 opening up to his vision; although only a few 
 miles from his home, it was a revelation to him, 
 as he had never before seen salt water. He had 
 eaten crabs and found them delicious, and their 
 habits had been revealed to him by his older 
 companions. All that they had told him, so far 
 as he had had opportunity to test out for himself, 
 proved true, so why should not all of the many 
 things which he had heard about and which 
 seemed impossible to him be accepted? His very 
 soul was beginning to hunger for the broader 
 things of life, to see and know for himself the 
 mysteries wrapped up in the bosom of the great 
 salt waters. Here he was at the junction of the 
 salt and fresh and had been promised fishing 
 which he had never partaken of and knew not 
 how to do. He was to become acquainted with 
 the kinds of fish which thrived in either salt or 
 fresh water, and he was in a transport of delight 
 at the prospect. As he sat there a large crab 
 came finning itself along at the surface of the 
 water, as is its custom when all is quiet. Here 
 was a distinctly salt water creature enjoying itself 
 in what was surely at best no more than slightly 
 brackish water, and he watched it with interest, 
 as it gave him a good opportunity to observe its 
 method of locomotion. Its large claws were 
 
 137 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 folded close to its body and it used only the two 
 swivel-jointed paddles at the back to propel 
 itself along, and it seemed to move sideways, as 
 is true of that species. He knew from his experi- 
 ence with them in the morning that they can swim 
 with great swiftness when alarmed. Suddenly 
 he sat bolt upright and his gaze was fastened on 
 a moving object on the bank about fifty yards 
 up-stream from where he was seated. For a full 
 minute he watched it, then he cautiously flattened 
 himself on the ground and began worming his 
 way toward a bunch of laurels near where the 
 men lay. As he gained the cover he picked up a 
 bit of light wood and tossed it so it would fall on 
 Mr. Adams, who looked around quickly when the 
 missile struck him, and saw the lad making the 
 most earnest gestures for him to come to him, at 
 the same time holding his fingers to his lips in 
 token of silence. Mr. Adams crept to him, well 
 knowing that something out of the ordinary was 
 transpiring somewhere near. "What's up?" he 
 whispered when near enough to be heard. "I 
 do' know what it is," whispered back the boy. 
 "Somethin' 'bout as big as a small dog, an' gray 
 an' black, an' a big, bushy tail. It's workin' 
 over along the other bank as if lookin' for some- 
 thing." the lad was highly excited, and he crept 
 forward with great caution toward the bank of 
 the stream, but in a direction toward where he 
 had seen the animal, the man following closely, 
 and both screened by the bushes. As they reached 
 
CRABS AND CRABBING 
 
 the bank Matt peered cautiously out and for 
 several minutes looked anxiously around, when be 
 suddenly ducked his head and pointed across the 
 stream without a word. Mr. Adams crawled to 
 his side and saw the object of the boy's interest. 
 "That's a coon," he whispered. "I never before 
 saw one prowling around at this time of the day; 
 he's hungry and looking for frogs or something." 
 The boy looked questions he would like to ask, 
 but remained silent. They were not more than 
 twentv yards from the raccoon, which, entirely 
 unaware that its most deadly and dreaded enemy 
 was near, was peering keenly under the bank and 
 along the water. Then it braced itself quickly 
 and plunged into the water, and simultaneously 
 with the splash a large crab went into the air 
 and well out on the bank. The 'coon turned and 
 swam to the bank and, after shaking the water 
 from its fur, it walked or rather ambled to where 
 the crab lay. The lad noticed the peculiar gait 
 of the Httle animal, whispering, "He walks jest 
 like a pacin' hos trots." 
 
 139 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 Mysteries of the River 
 
 It was the first time that Matt had ever seen a 
 raccoon and he was nervous with excitement. As 
 it approached the crab on the bank both Mr. 
 Adams and the boy could see from where they 
 sat the battle attitude of the latter as, with its 
 cruel claws extended, it awaited the attack of the 
 'coon, which kept slowly circling its intended 
 dinner. So quickly had the stroke in the water 
 been made that neither Matt nor Mr. Adams 
 saw whether the crab had been thrown by the 
 jaws of the animal or by a swift stroke of its paw. 
 One thing, however, was certain: it was well 
 aware of the punishing quality of those extended 
 nippers, as was evidenced by the precaution which 
 it exhibited. Here was being enacted one of the 
 many daily tragedies of nature: the crab battling 
 for its life and the 'coon using its cunning to secure 
 a comfortable meal. So it had been from the be- 
 ginning and so it must end; each subject working 
 out its own destiny in accordance with the im- 
 mutable laws of the universe, which to our eyes 
 appear in many instances as comedy, but through 
 the lifting of a very thin veil tragedy is disclosed. 
 Both man and boy sat in perfect silence watch- 
 ing the movements of the combatants. Though 
 
 140 
 
MYSTERIES OF THE RIVER 
 
 there was a vast difference in the size of the 
 parties to the fray, the 'coon apparently well 
 knew that those nippers were capable of inflicting 
 severe wounds, and it was wary. Suddenly it 
 sprang forward and seized one of the claws in its 
 teeth, at the same instant giving a violent shake 
 of its head which broke the claw loose from the 
 body of the crab and it went spinning several 
 feet away. 
 
 The rest of the proceedings were simple. With 
 but one claw the crab's defense was weak and it 
 was soon rendered helpless, when the 'coon, re- 
 turning to the bank, reclined at leisure and pro- 
 ceeded to devour its prey, biting through the hard 
 shell and then grinding all to a pulp. It soon 
 finished its repast and went down to the waters' 
 edge as if seeking more provender. "Git your 
 gun an' le's see what he looks like close by," said 
 the boy, still much excited. "No," returned Mr. 
 Adams, "while they are good eating in the winter 
 season, they are not of much account now and the 
 fur is poor; besides, they are likely to have young 
 at this period of the year which need their care. 
 They are not a destructive animal, living mostly 
 on frogs, fish, and such things, and keep close to 
 streams. If caught when young they are easily 
 tamed and make interesting although mischievous 
 pets, and when full grown, like this one, they 
 make a hard battle, as many a dog, unused to 
 their ways, has learned to its sorrow." 
 
 Seeing nothing more to its Hking in the way of 
 141 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 food, the animal went its way out through the 
 swamp, entirely unaware that it had furnished a 
 lesson in natural history to a very observant boy 
 who later in life became a most ardent hunter 
 and trapper of its kindred. 
 
 When they returned to the camp they found 
 Mr. Woodhull sleeping soundly, extracting from 
 the wood's atmosphere rejuvenation with each 
 breath, his appearance and actions denoting the 
 fact without question. "The tide has started 
 down, and we will get ready for fishing," said 
 Mr. Adams, as he peered along the bank. "That 
 'coon took up some of our time, and we should 
 be at it now." Matt quickly put the poles in the 
 boat, while his companion was getting his more 
 elaborate tackle ready and was standing observ- 
 ing the sleeping Woodhull when the spirit of mis- 
 chief, which was ever dominant, prompted him 
 to break a long spray of rush which was growing 
 near at hand, and he began tickling the sleeping 
 man's ear, "Skeeter.?" he asked under his breath, 
 as the man sleepily brushed his hand at the im- 
 aginary pest; then a moment later quite a vig- 
 orous slap followed, at which Matt grinned and 
 brought his hand down on his knee, emphasizing 
 his merriment. "Gosh!" he said. "I wish't for 
 a minute he was Ned Southard. See that bum'le 
 bee? Well, if it was him I'd have my hat over the 
 bee in jig time, 'nen I'd fix his wings so't he 
 couldn't fly an' with a stick I'd put it right where 
 his pants is good an' tight an' 'nen I'd squeeze 
 
 142 
 
MYSTERIES OF THE RIVER 
 
 the bee a little an' be ready to run like blazes 
 when he let out his e-e-yow," and Matt indulged 
 in a yell which made the woods ring, while Mr. 
 Woodhull came to a bolt upright position. "Who's 
 murdered?" asked Mr. Woodhull, rubbing his 
 eyes and looking at Mr. Adams, who was laughing 
 heartily. "Nobody's murdered," said Matt drolly; 
 "he on'y got stung with a bum'lebee an' jest 
 yowled, as mos' anybody 'd do." Mr. Woodhull 
 asked no more questions, but walked to the boat 
 with the others, who were still in a much amused 
 humor. Matt steadied the boat down-stream 
 with the oars to where it was deemed best to make 
 a trial at fishing. "We can only guess what we 
 may get here," said Mr. Adams. "We are as 
 likely to get salt-water fish as fresh-water, and so 
 we will use medium-size hooks and trust to luck 
 for the beginning." The two watched with much 
 interest as Mr. Adams cleaned a shedder crab. 
 He first removed the large claws; then he tapped 
 with the handle of his fish knife the under shell, 
 which broke readily, and he removed the pieces 
 with his thumb nail, after which he turned the 
 crab over and cracked the upper shell, which came 
 away in two large pieces, the whole crab being 
 peeled as readily and smoothly as a hard-boiled 
 egg. He then cut it into small pieces, following 
 the grain of the sections running lengthways on 
 the crab, leaving a section of the skin on each piece, 
 as it helps the bait to cling to the hook. "I think 
 we should fish close to the bottom," said Mr. 
 
 143 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 Adams, "as in such places it usually gives better 
 results." Matt had selected rather light poles 
 for the occasion. Although he was entirely ig- 
 norant of what class of fish would be met with, he 
 had to take that chance. Both he and Mr. Wood- 
 hull were shown how to put the crab-bait on a 
 hook, running the hook through from the flesh 
 side out through the skin. For quite a while 
 none of the party had any strikes and the boy 
 was getting a little restless. Then he realized 
 that something was at his bait, as it began moving 
 away with his line, and he brought the pole up 
 sharply and felt that his fish was hooked. It be- 
 gan struggling in the water and ran directly under 
 the boat. He was anxious to see what manner of 
 fish he was connected with and played it rather 
 vigorously, but was cautioned not to be in such 
 a hurry by Mr. Adams. He at last brought it to 
 the surface and was chagrined to find it was a 
 very large eel. But Mr. Adams gave a cry of de- 
 light and reached the landing net under the 
 squirming quarry, saying as he did so: "You may 
 catch many fine fish around here, but none choicer 
 than the one you have just landed. That is a 
 silver eel and is one of the finest of known sea- 
 foods." Matt's attention was drawn to the fact 
 that its back was a bright steel color, shading 
 down through silver to pure white on its under 
 side. Its head was broad in comparis(Mi with 
 others he had caught in different places. "We 
 will shake hands on that prize," said his com- 
 
 144 
 
MYSTERIES OF THE RIVER 
 
 panion, "and if we can get another we will all 
 have a meal a king might envy. As a matter of 
 fact, they are entirely too good for most kings I 
 ever heard of; they are best suited to fishermen 
 and other honest folks. You will find a vast dif- 
 ference in the flavor of these salt-water fellows, 
 compared with the fresh-water kind you have 
 been accustomed to." Mr. Woodhull had a 
 strike and he drew to the surface a small fish 
 which darted away, showing a bright silvery side 
 as it did so. "Debby," said Mr. Adams. "Their 
 mouths are very small and they are hard to hook. 
 They are a fine pan fish and worthy of time spent 
 fishing for them. They are looked upon as being 
 strictly a salt-water fish, and yet they are as we 
 now know, here in the fresh water. There is 
 much to be learned in relation to this very sub- 
 ject. For a small and rather unimportant fish, 
 commercially speaking, they have a great many 
 names by which they are known in different 
 places — Debby, Spot, LaFayette, Goody, and 
 many others. They all mean the same fish, and 
 it does seem a pity that there has not long since 
 been some way established whereby the one name 
 would mean the same fish wherever found. If we 
 find they are about here in numbers we can put 
 on small hooks and have sport with them. If we 
 could see the bottom here we would see shrimps 
 all about us. These fish lie in wait for them as 
 the tide moves them about. The shrimps, too, 
 doubtless move about with the tide, feeding on 
 10 145 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 their selection of food, which in turn is feeding 
 on — " "Gee a'mighty gosh!" whooped Matt, 
 "did ya ever see a strike Yike that?" His pole tip 
 went under the water and his line went hissing 
 down-stream until with a snap it flew into the 
 air, minus the hook. "That was a large one," 
 said Mr. Adams, "either a weakfish or bass. 
 You held him too hard; you should have given 
 him the spring of the pole and swung him around." 
 The boy sat saucer-eyed, gazing into the water, 
 too much amazed at the suddenness and vigor of 
 the strike to utter a word. At last he found ex- 
 pression. "Turn him around?" Might's well try 
 to turn a yerlin' calf around with that line tied 
 to his tail, an' him a jumpin'. I'll never git an- 
 other strike like that, never." 
 
 Mr. Adams had his bait taken off several times 
 by fish too small to be taken by the hook he was 
 using, and, having a reel, he was casting away 
 from the boat farther than Mr. Woodhull and 
 Matt could reach with their simpler rigs. Mr. 
 Woodhull had taken another eel, a good second 
 to the one Matt had, and Mr. Adams was gloating 
 over the prospect of what he called a royal sup- 
 per. He had put a large piece of the crab on his 
 hook and was permitting it to float down-stream. 
 By raising it to the surface and then releasing the 
 reel he would allow it to settle and almost reach 
 the bottom, meanwhile working down-stream at 
 each lowering of the rod tip. He had worked it 
 down perhaps fifty feet when with a jerk his bam- 
 
 146 
 
MYSTERIES OF THE RIVER 
 
 boo rod went double and the reel set up a com- 
 plaining screech as the line paid swiftly out. Mr. 
 Adams kept a taut line and a cool head, while 
 , both his companions became excited, the boy par- 
 ticularly so, as he was anxious to see a large salt- 
 water fish landed. Presently there was a splash 
 at the surface and as a spray of water went into 
 the air the line went slack. "I've lost him," said 
 Mr. Adams regretfully. "The hook was too 
 small, I guess." "Shucks!" said the lad. "That's 
 two big ones lost. Mab'e you didn't turn him 
 enough," and he giggled. Mr. Adams took the 
 hint and reminded him that he didn't lose his 
 hook, anyhow. Mr. Woodhull hooked and boated 
 a fish of perhaps a half pound in weight and 
 handed it to Mr. Adams for classification. "It's 
 sand porgy," he said. "They run well up into 
 salt-water streams. They are the immature mem- 
 bers of a very prolific fish known to deep-sea 
 fishermen as porgy or scup. They apparently 
 run up in such streams as much to escape their 
 enemies as to secure food. They are an excellent 
 pan fish and will take almost any bait, but must 
 be fished for at the bottom, using a small hook." 
 The afternoon was well along to its close when 
 Mr. Adams said he thought it was well to call it 
 a day and quit, as they had plenty offish for their 
 use. "We can try it very early in the morning if 
 we wish, as there is no better time than just as 
 the day is breaking for most any kind of fish." 
 "I'd sure like to know what took our baits 
 
 147 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 a-hootin' so," said Matt. "Seems 'ough we'd 
 ought'a got one of 'em, anyhow. Gosh! Look 
 a there! What's comin'?" He pointed almost 
 overhead to a large crane lumbering along in its 
 peculiar flight, its long legs projecting far out be- 
 hind, making altogether a rather weird picture. 
 "I never seen nothin' like that afore." As it 
 uttered its piercing cry, "A-r-r-r-k!" Matt dodged. 
 The bird was barely above the treetops and the 
 boat, being sheltered by the bushes, it had not 
 seen the party until directly over their heads, 
 when it made a clumsy attempt at haste, uttering 
 its startling cry, which in turn had upset Matt's 
 mental equilibrium. "Looks like he carries 
 crutches with him," he said, watching in wonder 
 the long legs. Again the men laughed at the boy's 
 remarks as well as his quaint manner of asking 
 questions and making comment. "That is what 
 is known as a blue heron," said Mr. Woodhull. 
 "The long legs we see are really stilts for wading 
 in deep water when looking for fish and other 
 food. A full-grown one will measure six feet 
 from its feet to the tip of its bill, and yet it will 
 not weigh more than a good-sized chicken. They 
 are nothing but bones and feathers, and are to be 
 found at the head waters of all such streams as 
 this. They lead a singularly lonely life, and while 
 they are frequently seen in pairs the young are 
 never seen around these parts. They are harm- 
 less and never interfere with anything." " 'Cept 
 to scare somebody to death mos'," broke in Matt. 
 
 148 
 
MYSTERIES OF THE RIVER 
 
 "Gosh! if I'd a been alone I'd a went overboard 
 when he come that close and squawked. Don't 
 seem to be no sense in anythin' bein' so ugly an' 
 good-for-nothin." Mr. Woodhull had raised his 
 pole slightly and was all attention. He had felt 
 a tug at his bait and soon threw into the boat a 
 fish of a most peculiar build. "That's a catty," 
 said Matt, as the fish was still in the air, but when 
 it landed at his feet he changed to "What's that 
 thing?" It was in shape something like a catfish, 
 but yellow on the belly and dark-brown on the 
 back, with great freckle-like spots. It was nearly 
 all head and ugly in the extreme. Mr. Woodhull 
 was as much at sea regarding the name of the 
 fish he caught as was the boy and sat studying it 
 wonderingly. "Keep your hands away from it," 
 said Mr. Adams, who was enjoying the perplexity 
 of the two. "No need o' tellin' me that," said the 
 boy. "I'd hate to touch it with a stick even. 
 Gee! Ain't we seein' things to-day, 'ough? 
 Birds 'ith stilts an' then a fish, I s'pose it calls 
 itself, ugHer'n sin." 
 
 149 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 Fly Fishing for Striped Bass 
 
 "That fish, if fish you can call it," said Mr. 
 Adams, "is one of the most destructive enemies 
 of the oyster to be found. While it is not powerful 
 enough to crush the shells of the mature oyster, 
 it continuously hunts out the smaller ones and 
 destroys them in multitudes. It is known as 
 oyster fish, toad fish, and by the fishermen and 
 boys as Sally Growler, as well as other names in 
 different locahties. It emits a sort of grunting 
 noise, as you notice, and is a pest wherever found. 
 Do not try to get the hook out, as it has swallowed 
 it completely, and it would crush your finger if it 
 could get hold of it. Cut the line and then put 
 the point of the fish knife between its jaws and 
 see what happens." Matt did as directed, and 
 the instant the knife was felt by the creature the 
 jaws came together with a snap. The boy raised 
 it from the bottom of the boat and swung it 
 around, still clinging to the knife blade. "Gee!" 
 he said, "what a biter!" Its hold was only broken 
 when he brought it down with a whack on the 
 seat of the boat. "Now," said Mr. Adams, "cut 
 it back of the head the same as you do an eel, 
 then throw it overboard and there will be one 
 pest less in the waters." The boy did as he was 
 told, saying, "It's mos' as ugly as a mud-puppy." 
 
 150 
 
FLY FISHING 
 
 Mr. Adams raised the anchor and taking the 
 oars said to Matt: "You can clean the eels as we 
 go along to camp. I want to have supper over 
 before sundown, as I wish to make an experiment 
 down here before it grows dark." What the 
 nature of the experiment consisted of he did not 
 disclose. As usual, Mr. Woodhull cared for the 
 fire and soon had a good one going. The eels 
 were carefully cleaned, and as soon as a pan of 
 water was boiling Mr. Adams dropped them in. 
 He had cut them in sections of about four inches, 
 and while timing the boiling with his watch he 
 was beating eggs in a bowl. In just three minutes 
 he drained the water off and wiped the sections 
 of fish dry with a towel, then he dipped them in 
 the beaten egg and placed them in the frying- 
 pan and sprinkled them liberally with fine corn- 
 meal. "We'll try a few boiled crabs, too," he 
 said, and directed Matt to put a kettle of water 
 over the fire. He then went down to the boat 
 and soon returned with six large crabs, carrying 
 them in the net. "Gee!" said the lad. "Smell 
 them eels a-fryin'; seems 'ough the's more good 
 things lives in the water than on land." The 
 water in the kettle began boiling as the eels and 
 coffee were done and Mr. Adams, with the aid of 
 two small sticks, lifted one of the crabs and 
 dropped it into the boiling water. "Ouch!" said 
 Matt, in strong sympathy for the creature. 
 "That seems a tough dose for anything to 
 take." 
 
 151 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Adams dryly, they die in- 
 stantly; besides, they sort of get used to it." He 
 dropped them in one by one, after which a liberal 
 portion of salt was added as well as pepper in 
 generous quantities. Treating them in this man- 
 ner the meat gets seasoned through as it could not 
 in any other way. Matt stood regarding the 
 whole proceeding with a rather gruesome expres- 
 sion until he was reminded that the eels were 
 waiting for him. Mr. Woodhull had prepared the 
 meal in a neat manner and proved his value in 
 camp life in preparing fire as well as food. 
 
 "I wonder what Aunt Mary'll say when I tell 
 her she can't cook eels like a man I know," said 
 the lad. "I'll bet she'll be mad an' tell me some- 
 thing back, but I never tasted any so good as 
 these." Mr. Woodhull said in all his experience 
 he had never tasted their equal in flavor. 
 
 "There are three things which go to make up 
 the combination of excellence," said Mr. Adams: 
 "One, because the eels are trading down to salt 
 water; that gives them a distinct taste. Then the 
 short par-boiling makes them as tender as meat 
 can be made. Next, frying them in the beaten 
 egg and the cornmeal until they are done to a 
 golden brown, as you see, they partake of a 
 degree of excellence which is to be had in no other 
 mode of cooking that I know of." When the meal 
 was about over Mr. Adams told Matt to pour 
 the water off the crabs and bring them to the 
 table, which consisted of a wide board that had 
 
 152 
 
FLY FISHING 
 
 been brought down in the wagon and rested on 
 
 two sets of crossed stakes driven in the ground. 
 
 Mr. Adams made a gesture with his hand to the 
 
 other man, saying as he did so, "I think he'll say 
 
 something." And sure enough as the lad raised 
 
 the lid from the kettle in which the crabs were 
 
 boiling he gave a start and dropping the Hd back 
 
 walked to the table, saying as he did so: "Them 
 
 crabs ain't no good now; they're all turned rusty. 
 
 Must a been somethin' in the water you put 
 > • ■>■> 
 em m. 
 
 Mr. Adams brought his hand down on the table 
 with a decided bang, and Mr. Woodhull, shaking 
 with laughter, said, "Matt, every circus has its 
 clown." The men explained to him that all 
 such creatures as crabs, lobsters, and prawn turn 
 red when boiled, and that these were all right. 
 The boy walked back to the fire and, taking up 
 the kettle and draining out the water, brought 
 the crabs and dumped them on the table. With 
 the others, he was soon picking out the white, 
 flakey meat and pronounced it prime. Mr. 
 Adams ate but one crab, and while the others 
 were finishing them he busied himself setting up 
 his light tackle, and the boy was much interested 
 in the enameled silk line on the reel. He had 
 never seen one before and examined it closely, re- 
 marking as he did so, "I don't see no sense much in 
 a line like that." Mr. Adams made no reply other 
 than to say that when he had the dishes cleaned 
 up he would have a chance to see how it worked. 
 
 153 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 When the sun had gone down behind the hills 
 and there was a suspicion of shade creeping through 
 the woodland, the three stepped into the boat 
 and were instructed by Mr. Adams to keep it in 
 the center of the stream. He then attached a 
 long single gut leader to his line. In the loops of 
 the leader he had previously fastened two gaudy 
 bass flies. The boy forgot his steering and gazed 
 with interest at the arrangement, at last saying, 
 "Them things looks jest like that dude had what 
 called me 'Buckskin,' on'y bigger." 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Adams, "you fellows keep the 
 boat in the middle of the stream and don't let it 
 more than just move. I don't know that I'll 
 catch anything; it's an experiment." Stripping 
 the line from the reel with his hand, he began 
 whipping the flies first toward one bank then 
 toward the other, giving a little line at each cast 
 until he had out all he could command. Every 
 root projecting from the bank was cast around, 
 as well as brush lying at the water's edge. 
 
 Mr. Woodhull, who had seen some fly fishing 
 done, made no comment, but the lad, after per- 
 haps three hundred yards of water had been 
 fished over and no results showing, blurted out: 
 "It sure seems to me like fool fishin'. Them bugs 
 don't go down in the water none, as if a fish'd 
 come up to the top after somethin' they nor any- 
 body else much ever seen afore." Mr. Adams 
 kept on casting, and as the flies touched the 
 water near a lot of brush there was a quick splashy 
 
 J 54 
 
FLY FISHING 
 
 and with a quick turn of the wrist the tip of the 
 rod was sent upward, which immediately shot 
 down again, showing the fish was hooked. 
 
 The line cut sharply across-stream, then up 
 and around the boat twice, Mr. Adams just keep- 
 ing the line taut and watching carefully the move- 
 ments of the fish. "Whatever it is," he said 
 quietly, "it is not large nor of the trout family, or 
 it would have gone either up- or down-stream at 
 once and not in circles." He reeled in the hne 
 and told jNIr. \Yoodhull to get the net ready. 
 "I think we can manage him now, but this rod 
 is too light to lift anything from the water with." 
 The net was lowered as the fish was led up to it, 
 then a quick dip and the fish was laid in the 
 bottom of the boat. It was of about one pound 
 weight and instantly recognized by the lad, who 
 exclaimed: "It's a white perch! I never knowed 
 they'd grab a bug at the top of the water afore." 
 
 "There's many things in nature to learn if we 
 look about us," replied Mr. Adams, "and we are 
 never through learning, try as we may; there is 
 too much to unravel in one short life. Keep the 
 boat right where it is. The current is moving but 
 little now, and there may be more fish where this 
 fellow came from; in fact, I knew there were 
 more there when he hooked, as perch seldom or 
 never are alone." He again laid the Hne lightly 
 across the same spot where he hooked the fish, 
 and again there was a splash and they all plainly 
 saw a gleam of silver at the surface, but the fish 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 missed. Three more casts were made without 
 results, but at the fourth there was a rise and 
 another one was hooked and played in the same 
 manner as the first one. The fish at once left the 
 bank and put up all the battle in mid-stream near 
 the boat. In all, four fish were taken and all of 
 the same size. Then, no more appearing, they 
 drifted on down-stream, carefully whipping all 
 promising spots. 
 
 As they approached a grassy point which ran 
 down to the water's edge and overhung by a 
 large poplar tree, Mr. Adams laid out a longer 
 cast than usual, his f^ies alighting close to the 
 bank, and he began at once retrieving them by a 
 succession of short, skipping jerks. There was a 
 swirl in the v/ater, but no splash, and the rod 
 went double. The reel set up a screeching as the 
 fish tore down-stream for a distance of at least 
 seventy-five feet, where it plunged into a pool on 
 the opposite side of the stream. Mr. Adams 
 showed a trace of excitement as he said sharply: 
 "Row me down toward him quickly, but go quietly. 
 Another run like that and he'll smash the rod or 
 break the line, as he has it most all out now." 
 The fish was fighting deep, surging first to one 
 side of the pool, then to the other, the fisherman 
 keeping a taut line and reeling as the boat ad- 
 vanced. When they were within twenty feet of 
 the pool, Mr. Adams said quietly: "Hold steady 
 now, right where we are. T may drown him in 
 this deep water." At that remark the boy looked 
 
 156 
 
FLY FISHING 
 
 up with a questioning expression, but refrained 
 from saying anything, being too much engrossed 
 in the battle. For a few moments the fish seemed 
 indined to sulk at the bottom, merely swaying 
 from side to side of the pool; then, like a rocket, it 
 started up-stream, the reel singing its song of the 
 chase. The two at the oars, taking the cue from 
 a glance given by Mr. Adams, began backing 
 the boat so that the strain on the line was not so 
 great as in the first rush. When it reached the 
 spot where it was hooked the quarry ran close to 
 the bank and became inert. "I do not know what 
 it may prove to be," said Mr. Adams, "but it 
 fights precisely as I have had salmon do in quiet 
 waters like this. Whatever it is, it is a dead- 
 game sport, and my hat is off to it; but I am more 
 than anxious to secure it." When the boat came 
 to within a short distance of where the fish lay, 
 a motion from the fisherman caused the rowing to 
 cease, and he began pumping the fish by short 
 pulls on the rod. This disturbed it and it swung 
 out in midstream, then back to the bank, when it 
 again sulked and was once more brought into 
 action by the motion of the rod. This time it 
 started down the stream again, but much slower, 
 and when part way down to the large pool a 
 swirl of the water at the surface was seen in which 
 appeared a rigidly-set dorsal fin, which drew from 
 Mr. Adams the whispered comment, "It's a 
 striped bass and a beauty. I knew when it first 
 struck that I had a master fish to deal with." 
 
 157 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 When it again reached the lower pool the boat 
 was close to hand and was stopped. While the 
 killing game went on many times it came to the 
 top, and each time the rigidly-set dorsal fin was 
 in plain view, and Mr. x^dams, with lines of tense 
 anxiety written on his face, fought as only one 
 can who dares not lose his prize. 
 
 After perhaps a half hour of strenuous work the 
 fact became apparent to the man with the rod 
 that the quarry was fast weakening. "Get the 
 net and be ready," he said quietly to Mr. Wood- 
 hull. "Lower it gently into the water and about 
 a foot beneath the surface, then hold it perfectly 
 still until I give the word, then scoop hard to- 
 ward the fish." Slowly, foot by foot, the line 
 was reeled in, bringing the unwilling victim nearer 
 the net. The pliant rod bent like a rainbow, 
 taking up instantly every inch of slack line given. 
 
 At last it was in sight; its glowing eyes could be 
 plainly seen. There was fire there still and the 
 fighting spirit was not broken. It was subdued 
 through sheer exhaustion, and the head and 
 shoulders were at last brought well within the rim of 
 the net. "Now!" said Mr. Adams sharply, and Mr. 
 Woodhull drove the net back and upward. The 
 fish dropped heavily in the bottom of the net 
 and was lifted into the boat, where it lay rolling 
 from side to side, unspeakable iridescence of back- 
 ground and stripe showing brilliantly in the 
 gathering dusk- — one of the masterpieces of 
 Divine conception of marine life. 
 
 158 
 
FLY FISHING 
 
 To tell which of the trio was most pleased would 
 be difficult. The battle had been fought to a 
 successful finish in a masterly manner by Mr. 
 Adams, who, on seeing it safely landed, threw his 
 hat on the bottom of the boat and let out a regular 
 Indian yell, a thing totally unexpected from that 
 usually sedate man. Then, catching Matt's head 
 between his hands, he touseled his hair in all 
 directions in his exuberance of joy. The boy, who 
 was down on his knees taking in every line of 
 beauty of the fish, said good-naturedly, "Gosh! 
 jest 'cause you done somethin' no other livin' 
 man could a done with a rig like that, I guess, 
 the's no sense in usin' my head for a football, 
 but jiminy crickets! ain't he a beauty? I never 
 seen a bass afore. What'll he weigh? An' catched 
 on a rig like that! No heavier'n a straw much. 
 Gosh! I never could a done it, never." 
 
 "It will weigh just about eight pounds," said 
 Mr. Adams, "and it is the first one I have ever 
 taken on a fly, although I have known for a long 
 time that they will strike at a bright-colored fly 
 just at dusk or in the early morning light, where 
 the waters are absolutely quiet. I have friends 
 who have taken many of them, but it has always 
 been done at the very head waters of bays like 
 this and where both salt and fresh waters meet. 
 One might fish this way, too, for seasons together 
 at the most promising places without getting one, 
 and it is that very thing that makes a capture 
 like this the more to be prized. If it were possible 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 I would send this away and have it mounted for 
 my dining-room." 
 
 "How mounted?" asked Matt. "You couldn't 
 keep a fish no time 'thout spoilin'." Mr. Adams 
 explained to the lad how taxidermists could skin 
 a fish and draw the skin tight over a form and dry 
 and then paint it in their natural colors, so that 
 it would stay that way for ages. Mr. Adams 
 never tired telling the boy of such things. The 
 boy's walk in life was so narrow his desire to learn 
 of the great world of which he knew so little was 
 almost pathetic. "We will clean and salt this 
 fellow before going to bed to-night," said Mr. 
 Adams, "and in the morning we will have broiled 
 bass for breakfast. Then you will know how they 
 taste. You saw for yourselves how they can 
 fight on a line." 
 
 "He'll never beat them eels," said Matt forcibly, 
 then added: "He was a fighter, all right, but I 
 do' know what you meant when you said you 
 would drown him in the deep pool." 
 
 "That is just what was done," was the reply. 
 "These fish have the habit when hooked of fight- 
 ing with their mouths open, which stops their gill_ 
 actions. As a result they sufl^ocate for lack of 
 what we call oxygen." 
 
 "Oh," said the lad, and he thoughtfully pulled 
 at his oar. It was a contented trio that retired 
 that night with nothing but the thin tent between 
 them and the bright stars, while the trees close 
 overhead whispered a soothing lullaby. 
 
 1 60 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 A Storm on the River 
 
 The breakfast of broiled striped bass was voted 
 good, but Matt said, "As long as you're cookin' 
 fish, why not fry eels? They're the best ever." 
 A man came into camp just as they had finished 
 breakfast who proved to be the owner of the 
 ground on which their tent stood. He was 
 affable, and they learned his name was Osborne. 
 He accepted thankfully the remaining half of the 
 bass, as well as the perch which had been taken 
 and cleaned the previous evening. They learned 
 from him the nearest way to the store, which was 
 not more than a mile distant, and being in need 
 of bread and some other supplies. Matt was dis- 
 patched on the errand. He changed his clothes, 
 but could not be induced to put on his shoes. 
 "Goin' is easier," he said, "when you're travelin' 
 light." When he had reached the top of the hill 
 Mr. Adams suddenly called, "Ho, Matt, get me a 
 spool of bright red thread and see if you can find 
 a half dozen or so white chicken feathers." 
 
 "All right," sang back the boy, "I'll get 'em if 
 I have to rob a hen," 
 
 "That boy," said Mr. Woodhull, "would make 
 you like him, no matter what happened." 
 
 "Where did you find him.^" asked Mr. Osborne. 
 ^ i6i 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 He was given Matt's history by Mr. Adams, 
 who concluded with: "He's a rough diamond if 
 there ever was one, which needs but poHshing to 
 adorn any setting, but I question if he will ever 
 be weaned from his native woods and streams. 
 And loving them as he does, it would, in a sense, 
 be a pity to do so. He will find and credibly fill 
 some useful niche in hfe." 
 
 The three men were still talking in the shade 
 when Matt returned. The sun was burning hot, 
 and the lad showed its effects on him. As he laid 
 down his bundles he simply remarked, "It's 
 hotter'n sin." 
 
 "Well, did you catch your hen?" Mr. Adams 
 asked as the boy lolled out on the grass. 
 
 "Gee! I mos* forgot," he said, and pulling from 
 his pocket an assortment of little feathers, big 
 feathers, and fuzzy feathers, observed: "You 
 didn't say how you wanted 'em, so I took *em as 
 they run, big an' little, on'y I got some of all 
 kinds. The' was plenty of 'em along the fence 
 right in front of a house. A little whipper- 
 snapper of a boy came out and asked me what I 
 wanted 'em for, an' I told him I was makin' a 
 chicken an' I wanted feathers for it," and the boy 
 giggled at the thought of it. 
 
 "It is too hot for fishing," said Mr. Woodhull, 
 "and the sun is so glary it would be of but little 
 use trying. I think I will find a shady spot and 
 take a swim. It has been a long time since I 
 ventured a trial at that game. 
 
 162 
 
A STORM ON THE RIVER 
 
 "I wouldn't remain in long," said Mr. Adams. 
 "The sun is so extremely hot you may find a chill 
 to the water." 
 
 He returned in a short time, saying the water 
 was fine and nice and clear where he went in. 
 Matt, who had been lying quietly on the grass, 
 got up and said, "I guess I'll try her, too." His 
 stay was much longer than Mr. WoodhuU's had 
 been, and he decided that it beat the "swimmin' " 
 hole back home all to splinters. Mr. Adams was 
 busy at the table when he returned. The feathers 
 were laid out before him and he was lashing a 
 small fluffy one to a hook with the red thread. 
 When he had it wound to suit his fancy he laid 
 a larger feather over the first one and resumed 
 the wrapping, ending where he had started with 
 the first one. Then, selecting a third and much 
 larger one, he again began wrapping, making 
 three complete windings back and forth without 
 breaking the thread. This gave to the fly he was 
 constructing a very noticeable red body with 
 white wings. 
 
 "Makin' bugs?" queried Matt, as he leaned 
 with one elbow on the table. "I never yet seen a 
 red bug with white wings." 
 
 "I don't know that I ever did, either," said 
 Mr. Adams, "but maybe the fish will take a fancy 
 to it. I have one fish in mind to try for. I have 
 seen it taken with only one white feather on a 
 hook, and if I can get one I will then tell you 
 what it is." 
 
 163 
 
in S H I N G WITH A BOY 
 
 Before leaving, Mr. Osborne had told them 
 where yellow-leg snipe were to be found, and then 
 quickly decided that a change of diet particularly 
 to those delicious birds would be most welcome 
 if they could be fortunate enough to locate some. 
 "Did you ever shoot a gun?" asked Mr. Adams, 
 as the boy stood intently watching him clean 
 his gun. 
 
 "No," said he, "not at anythin' alive, on'y two 
 or three times anyhow, an' 'nen at a mark down 
 at the wheelwright shop." 
 
 "Well, we'll see what you can do at this piece 
 of paper. Fasten it to that gum tree over by the 
 bank." 
 
 "That's on'y 'bout twenty-five yards off," said 
 Matt as he returned. "I can hit her easy." 
 
 Mr. Adams slid a shell into the gun and handed 
 it to the lad, saying: "Hold it hard against your 
 shoulder and when you get sight at the paper, 
 pull; don't wait to sight again. The first range is 
 always the best one, and don't flinch when you 
 pull." 
 
 Matt did as he was directed, and to his delight 
 sprinkled the paper liberally with shot. "I 
 knowed I could hit her," he said. "I often set an' 
 aim out in the woods with a stick at birds an' 
 things, imaginin' I had a gun." 
 
 It was so excessively hot that no regular dinner 
 was cooked. They had lemonade and bread and 
 butter, as well as some of the cold ham ot Aunt 
 Mary's cooking, with a portion of the preserves 
 
 164 
 
A STORM ON THE RIVER 
 
 which she had packed in as dessert. When all 
 was cleaned away the three stretched themselves 
 in the shade, endeavoring to get cool. The two 
 men were smoking their pipes in great content- 
 ment, while the boy's very soul was glad with the 
 rapture of it all. A new world of observation and 
 privilege had suddenly opened out to him and he 
 was happy beyond words. To Mr. Woodhull it 
 was bliss.' He no longer dreaded sleepless nights 
 nor felt the languor of a weakening disease. It 
 was a rejuvenation of both body and soul. Mother 
 Nature had taken him in her embrace and had 
 proven herself the great physician, using pure, 
 fresh air and balm given off from the whispering 
 trees. The two men had dropped off to sleep in 
 the quiet of the place, while the boy lay watching 
 a thrush which had flown into a tree overhead. 
 Its bill was open wide and he could plainly see 
 the vibrations of its throat as it panted from the 
 effects of the heat. The lad wondered if all was 
 well with Aunt Mary, for despite her rather stern 
 ways with him, she was all the world to him, and 
 he sensed in a boy's way that her discipline was 
 for his material good. 
 
 He visualized her busy with her household 
 duties and pictured the old cow grazing con- 
 tentedly in the lot back of the little cottage. It 
 all seemed so peaceful that the lad was soon 
 dreaming of a new gun and a hound, and was in 
 pursuit of rabbits in a famihar swamp. 
 
 A deep rumbling noise aroused him, and he was 
 
 165 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 up in a minute looking around. He noticed the 
 sun was not so bright and that an unusual still- 
 ness was all about them. He walked to the brow 
 of the hill and saw a heavy black cloud coming up 
 rapidly out of the west and through it intermittent 
 flashes of lightning showed. "Gee!" he said to 
 himself, "I bet it will be a screamer when she hits 
 us." Then he returned to the camp. Both men 
 were sleeping yet, and he sat down by the table 
 for a few minutes. *'Gosh! how I'd like to take 
 the gun an' jes' shoot her off close by 'em an' see 
 'em tumble over each other, but it would be makin' 
 free with what don't belong to me, an' I won't." 
 
 Another roll of thunder much louder than the 
 first stirred him to action and he shook Mr. Wood- 
 hull by the shoulder. "Better git up outen' 
 this," he said, "les' you want a duckin'." Both 
 men roused up at his call, and Mr. Adams went 
 up to the top of the hill to have a look at the 
 approaching shower. 
 
 He came back at once, saying as he did so: 
 "We may have a heavy rain and a hard blow. I 
 expected something of the kind after the terrific 
 heat of the forenoon." He then looked at his 
 watch, and turning to Mr. Woodhull, said: "We 
 have slept more than two hours. What were you 
 doing, Matt?" 
 
 "Well," he replied, "I jes laid here on the grass 
 watchin' things an' thinkin 'bout Aunt Mary an' 
 all. 'Nen I jes' took my new gun an' houn' dog 
 an' was hot-foot after a rabbit when it thundered." 
 
 1 66 
 
A STORM ON THE RIVER 
 
 "Oh," said Mr. Adams, "we'll make sure of 
 things about the tent before the rain hits us. 
 That bank will shelter us from the heavy wind if 
 it comes hard, and the trees will break the driving 
 rain." First the tent pegs were gone over by Mr. 
 Woodhull and each one driven a little firmer into 
 the ground. The ropes to the fly of the tent were 
 drawn taut and the flap loosened ready for lashing 
 on the inside. A puff of dust and leaves came over 
 the hilltop and scattered all about them, and the 
 swamp birds could be seen flying to bushy shelter. 
 A large gray squirrel went hastily across the knoll 
 near the tent and scurried up a tree and was 
 soon out of sight. 
 
 "He don't want to get his jacket wet," said the 
 boy, as, with the other two, he stood enjoying the 
 fanning breeze. "Now what told that squirrel 
 it was goin' to rain?" he asked thoughtfully. 
 
 "The same power that told you," said Mr. 
 Woodhull soberly. "Instinct some call it; I an- 
 swer, reason. What do you say, Mr. Adams?" 
 They had entered the tent, and large drops of 
 rain began pattering on the ground and the fly 
 of the tent. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Adams, "the veil between 
 instinct and reason seems very thin and is most 
 difficult of definition. We can scarcely imagine 
 an animal reasoning out a problem through pro- 
 longed thought, and yet there are so many things 
 daily transpiring in animal Hfe that we can 
 scarcely determine through our powers of observa- 
 
 167 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 tion what impulse, or instinct, or reasoning, if you 
 please, carries them along to the successful ac- 
 complishment of their object." 
 
 The rain was falling heavily and the wind was 
 whipping the trees like some unleashed fury, 
 scattering the leaves in clouds, while the lightning 
 was playing vividly through the woods. Then 
 came a deafening crash, accompanied by a flash 
 of lightning so intense as to light the tent with a 
 blue haze, while heavy objects were heard striking 
 the ground. Mr. Woodhull peered out of the 
 tent and saw that a large tree standing not more 
 than twenty feet from the tent had been riven by 
 the lightning, and he communicated the fact to 
 his companions. "Look quickly, if you can see 
 through the rain, if there are any large pieces 
 swinging which might fall on the tent," said Mr. 
 Adams. Matt stood clutching the latter's arm 
 in boyish terror, while the rain came down in 
 torrents. Mr. Woodhull said he could see nothing 
 in the shape of swinging or loosened parts of the 
 tree which might be blown on the tent. Mr. 
 Adams tried to calm the boy's terror by explain- 
 ing to him in a way he thought the boyish min4 
 could grasp how the earth currents and air cur- 
 rents of electricity when they came in contact 
 caused the terrible concussions we hear. "In the 
 present instance," he said, "the earth current, 
 which of course cannot be seen, was running up 
 the side of that tree and it was met by the de- 
 scending air current, and at the very jioint where 
 
 168 
 
A STORM ON THE RIVER 
 
 the tree is worst shattered is where the explosion 
 took place. This takes place whenever an object 
 of any kind is struck by lightning. It may be a 
 tree, or a man, or the side of a house, or its chim- 
 ney. What scientists term the positive and neg- 
 ative currents are always active in storms of this 
 kind, and when they are carried together by any 
 object whatever, the impact, as it is called, is so 
 great as to tear to pieces almost any structure of 
 wood or stone, although when an animal is struck 
 it rarely rends the flesh, as it constitutes what is 
 called a conductor, and the animal dies from shock 
 to the nervous system." Matt sat, as was so 
 often the case when in thought, digging his toe 
 into the ground, and when further told that it 
 was a most rare occurrence for lightning to strike 
 twice in the same place or in the immediate 
 vicinity during a single storm, he remarked 
 dryly, "It don't gen'ly have to; one hittin' seems 
 to be 'bout enough for mos' things. But didn't 
 she sizzle? Jiminy crickets! it mos' split my 
 ears. 
 
 It was fortunate the tent was standing on a 
 knoll, as the water was lying all about in great 
 pools where it had ran down from the hillside, and 
 as soon as the wind subsided and they could look 
 out from the tent it could be seen that the river 
 was rising rapidly, as the torrents of water soon 
 reached it from the long line of hills. "It looks as 
 if fishing was not to be thought of for this evening," 
 said Mr. WoodhuU. "There will be a regular 
 
 169 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 flood if this rain keeps up for any length of 
 time." 
 
 It was more than an hour before it stopped 
 sufficiently for them to venture out from the tent, 
 which was dry and comfortable, thanks to their 
 foresight in pitching it on high ground and also 
 to the excellent waterproofing of the tent itself. 
 The river had indeed risen and now had assumed 
 the proportions of a regular torrent swirling along, 
 carrying large pieces of driftwood and other 
 woodland debris down in its muddy volume. As 
 they looked downstream they could see it was 
 much abov^e its banks and had already spread 
 over the meadows. Their boat was tossing on 
 the current and was drawn up to higher ground 
 and made secure. 
 
 "This should give us some snipe shooting," 
 said Mr. Adams. "While they prefer sand bars 
 to run along in search of food, they will now be 
 flying along the edge of the waters searching for 
 feeding places and can be plainly seen while in 
 the air." They accordingly launched out in their 
 boat about four o'clock and went down rapidly 
 on the swollen stream and were soon in the bay, 
 which was somewhat discolored by the influx of 
 the muddy waters from the hills. 
 
 "There goes another one of them 'stilt birds,' " 
 said the lad, pointing across the bay to where a 
 blue heron was winging its way inland. "Seems 
 'ough they might fold their legs up some way 
 when they fly." 
 
 170 
 
A STORM ON THE RIVER 
 
 Several flights of the small ring-neck snipe were 
 seen. "They are fine eating," said Mr. Adams, 
 "but we are after larger game." 
 
 After a short time the plaintive whistling of the 
 larger birds was heard and several of them circled 
 near where their boat was lying in a sheltered 
 cove. Mr. Adams left the boat and crawled 
 away among some tall rushes at the edge of the 
 water and awaited the birds' return, which was 
 sure to be soon. x'\s they came circling by again 
 he fired twice and had the satisfaction of seeing 
 one bird drop. Matt was watching closely and 
 noting every move made by the gunner. It was 
 the first time he had ever seen wing shooting 
 done, and he marked the bird closely as it at- 
 tempted to balance itself in the air, only to fail, 
 as one wing was broken. It came to the ground 
 in broken circles and landed heavily, falling be- 
 tween Mr. Adams and himself. He was at the 
 spot almost as soon as the bird dropped and was 
 examining it soberly as Mr. Adams approached. 
 A great globule of blood welled up from the side 
 of the head, showing that at least one shot had 
 entered there as well as at the wing. It was fast 
 expiring, and with a shiver of the body and a 
 slight fluttering of the sound wing it was gone. 
 "They are fine birds," said the older party, "and 
 I should have brought down more; if I had been 
 in better shooting form it would have been dif- 
 ferent. They fly rapidly, and when taking a side 
 shot, to be sure of result, at least two feet lead 
 
 171 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 must be taken; that is, you should hold your gun 
 that much ahead of the bird you seek to kill. 
 Sometimes much more than that distance is nec- 
 essary; it is all according to the distance they are 
 from you and the speed they are making." 
 
 This little talk had been for Matt's benefit for 
 future use, and it was planted away in his store- 
 house of memory. Three more of the same kind 
 of birds were killed, and then the party returned 
 to their camp. As they entered the river the 
 current was still running so strongly that they 
 found it necessary for each man to take an oar, 
 and even then it was hard work to make much 
 progress. 
 
 As they reached the camp they found the 
 water had subsided so the ground all about was 
 drained and the river much below the bank's edge. 
 "After such storms," said Mr. Adams, "the 
 waters run off quickly, and it is the quick rush of 
 the water from the hills which causes the streams 
 to rise so rapidly. It would be useless to try 
 fishing to-day, as there is too much water running 
 down." 
 
 For supper they had the birds, the boy com- 
 menting on their long legs and bills. "Seems 
 'ough salt water builds stilts on all the birds," he 
 said, as they were dressing them. "I don't see 
 why they need to run faster'n other birds." 
 
 "'['heir legs are useful in wading," said Mr. 
 Woodhull. "They get much of their food that 
 way. When the birds were dressed they were 
 
 172 
 
A STORM ON THE RIVER 
 
 placed in boiling water with a small portion of 
 onion and allowed to remain a few minutes. 
 This method, it was explained, besides making 
 the birds more tender, always destroys the peculiar 
 sedgy taste natural to most salt-water fowl and 
 makes them more palatable. As Mr. x'\dams had 
 said, they were found to be delicious eating, and 
 besides they helped out on their larder and were 
 distinctly novel to Mr. Woodhull and Matt. 
 
 "It's more than likely we will have muddy 
 water here for at least another day," said Mr. 
 Adams, as the last of the meal was eaten. "Sup- 
 pose we make an excursion to the beach front to- 
 morrow? We can start early and come back in 
 the afternoon, and so not have the heat of the 
 day for our rowing. Do you feel equal to the 
 task.?" he asked Mr. Woodhull. 
 
 "I am ready for anything," was the reply. "I 
 just feel prime, but — " and here he winked slyly 
 at Mr. Adams, "I don't think Matt would care 
 for the trip." 
 
 "Well," said the lad, without looking up from 
 the work of putting a new Hne on his fish pole, 
 "I found two places where the hne was sort o' 
 chafed. I guess when I got that wallopin' strike, 
 like I'll never get again, he took the line a-hummin' 
 'round the boat first scoot, I guess when you get 
 ready to start to the beach the'll be company 
 lookin' like me close by. I've never been to the 
 sea an' would like to go mighty well." 
 
 The following day was spent on the beach, to 
 
 173 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 the pleasure of all and to the positive delight of 
 the boy. He had never beheld the ocean, and his 
 eyes were as restless as the waves, taking in every 
 detail. And his questions were without end. The 
 sailing ships which passed along far out to sea 
 were a delight to him, as he had never before seen 
 them, and the questions in relation to how they 
 were made to sail in the different directions were 
 many and amusing. Mr. Adams, as well as Mr. 
 Woodhull, were busy giving information aU day 
 long. 
 
 As they were returning to their camp the boy 
 espied an osprey sailing over the waters of the 
 bay in search of a meal. This was a bird he had 
 never seen, and he was asking about it when it 
 poised and its wings made a half circle in the air 
 and it then went down into the water with a long, 
 slanting dive, sending the spray high into the air. 
 The boy rose from his seat in perfect wonder, 
 dropping the oar he had been pulling as he did 
 so, and then under his breath exclaimed: "Gosh! 
 What in all creation made him go down like that.'' 
 I bet he drowns." He was still in a state of won- 
 derment when the bird came to the surface, 
 struggling with a large fish vyhich it held in its 
 talons, and after a vigorous shaking to free its 
 feathers from water it sailed off to an adjacent 
 tree, where a great nest of sticks and grass had 
 been built. This was a profound revelation to the 
 lad, who had never before seen a fish hawk in 
 action, and he was all excitement. "Gee!" he 
 
 174 
 

 ^IML:.*" 
 
A STORM ON THE RIVER 
 
 said; 'T thought he was crazy. I never knowed 
 that birds went down under the water for fish. 
 I've seen kingfishers pick up minnies out 'en the 
 brooks, but they only dip down where the water 
 ain't deep an' jest pick 'em up. Seems the's 
 sumthin' new on salt water mos' all the time." 
 
 The boy and Mr. Woodhull were at the oars, 
 and the boy rowed on in thoughtful silence for 
 several minutes, when he suddenly broke out 
 with: "I was jest wishin' how I might alius live 
 in the woods an' 'long the water 'mongst the fish 
 an' birds. They don't seem to have no trouble 
 gittin' 'long 'cept crows an' hawks are alius 
 quarrelin' when they meet, but mos' things seem 
 to go 'long an' mind'n their own bisnus." 
 
 "There is not an animal, bird, or fish which 
 does not have its natural and mortal enemy," 
 said Mr. Adams, "and man is but little better 
 ofl^ and no less quarrelsome. Why, even you have 
 Ned Southard to torment you." 
 
 "I know it," said the lad, "an' one o' these days 
 he'll git good an' plenty what's comin' to him. 
 I made him have his head shaved once on 'count 
 o' puttin' glue in his hair, an' that's on'y part o' 
 his comin' troubles 'les he lets me alone." 
 
 175 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Unexpected Joys 
 
 The water in the river had subsided greatly 
 during the day and was running quite clear. 
 They made and ate a hearty supper, and Mr. 
 Adams, despite their tired condition, asked the 
 two to row him down the river, as he wished to 
 try out his white feather fly. x'\s before he whipped 
 every point along the banks which gave promise 
 of a rise, but nothing came of his endeavors 
 until they came to the pool where the striped bass 
 had been taken. As the fly settled on the water 
 well over to the left bank there was a swirl and 
 a splash and the f^y disappeared. With a quick 
 wrist motion Mr. Adams set the hook, saying 
 quietly as he did so, "I've got him." The rod 
 took a sharp bend under the pressure of the 
 hooked fish. It was no such strife, however, as 
 the bass had put up. It ran twice across the pool 
 with a darting motion, then settled down to rather 
 mild up- and down-stream runs. All hands were 
 eager to see the fish, but Mr. Adams handled it 
 with extreme care and hnallv brought it to the 
 surface, when Matt, who had the net, landed it, 
 under Mr. Woodhull's instructions. It proved to 
 be a bright, silvery fish with dark-green back and 
 of about two pounds weight, and looked much 
 
 170 
 
UNEXPECTED JOYS 
 
 like an overgrown herring. "It is just what I was 
 trying for," said Mr. Adams. "I have known for 
 a long time that they could be taken on a white 
 fly at this time of the day. They are known as 
 'shadine,' and are really a species of shad, but 
 do not make a table delicacy, as they are very 
 bony and of poor flavor." 
 
 It was not taken from the net, but the hook 
 was carefully removed and when they had viewed 
 it to their liking the net was lowered into the 
 water, when it quickly swam away. 'T was in- 
 terested in the matter of taking one on the fly 
 more than in the fish itself," said Mr. Adams, 
 "although, if we had no better fish near at hand 
 we would have kept it." Several more casts were 
 made and one more rise secured, but the fish 
 missed, showing, however, a brightly gleaming 
 side as it turned to take the fly, and this time 
 much nearer the boat. "There is no need of taking 
 more," said Mr. Adams, "although good fish 
 would be welcome, as well as some more crabs, but 
 we know where they are, don't we, boy?" He 
 playfully poked his thumb into Matt's ticklish 
 ribs. "Let's go to camp while it is hght enough 
 to see to put the mosquito netting in the crab 
 net, so we can get some shrimps to-morrow, as 
 well as some other bait if we need it." 
 
 "What's shrimps?" asked the boy. "I ain't 
 seen none down here since we come, as I knows 
 of." 
 
 "We'll show you some to-morrow, I guess, and 
 12 177 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 how to use them as well," said Mr. Adams. The 
 fine-meshed netting was soon fitted on the crab 
 net and all made ready for the excursion on the 
 coming day, which, as on the former occasion, 
 proved productive of plenty of crabs, both for 
 eating and for bait. When it came to searching 
 out shrimps, which Mr. Adams proceeded to do 
 around some old sunken timbers in shallow water, 
 the boy was all attention, as was his custom when 
 the unusual or any, to him, new idea was being 
 worked out. When the net was raised from the 
 water and he saw the shrimps skipping about in 
 it his first remark was: "Gee, lookit the water 
 grasshoppers! What are they good for.''" 
 
 "They make one of the best of all baits," said 
 Mr. Adams. "Many kinds of fish can be taken 
 on them, and at times they will take no other 
 bait. The best way to keep them alive is to put 
 them in dry and very fine sawdust, but we will 
 be compelled to do without that and use a box." 
 
 Matt studied them closely and made some of 
 his usual droll remarks in relation to them. To 
 him it was a real nature study, and he was fast 
 learning that but few things were of no utility, 
 and his simple ideas and ways of life were fast re- 
 ceiving the touch and breadth of the great world 
 to which he had lived a stranger. 
 
 When enough shrimp was secured they returned 
 to the camp and, getting their tackle ready, Mr. 
 Adams advised giving the fish a trial, as the 
 weather was dull and there was a slight fog hang- 
 
 178 
 
UNEXPECTED JOYS 
 
 ing over the water. Dinner was made on the last 
 of Aunt Mary's ham, much to the regret of all, 
 as it had proved a most acceptable addition to 
 their stock of provisions. 
 
 "We had better use rather large hooks while 
 the tide is fairly high," suggested Mr. Adams. 
 "We can change to smaller ones if necessary." 
 At the pool where they had formerly fished they 
 used shrimps for bait as well as the shedder crabs. 
 On the former there was ceaseless nibbling of 
 small fish, and Matt suggested using small hooks. 
 "The's no sense in wastin' time an' bait too an' 
 gittin' nothin'," he said. While he was talking 
 of changing the hooks Mr. i\dams told him to 
 string his hook full of the shrimps, as the fish 
 might as well eat them up. The lad did as sug- 
 gested and lowered his hook to the bottom, when 
 soon there was excitement in plenty. The top of 
 his pole went under the water with a rush and 
 his Hne went hissing through the water. Mr. 
 Adams seized the anchor rope and ran the boat 
 upstream the full length of the rope, thus easing 
 the strain on the lad's Hne; then, as the fish went 
 downstream he eased away, allowing the boat to 
 drift back. Meanwhile he was coaching the boy, 
 who was giving the fish as full play as possible 
 by easing away on the pole and leaning as far out 
 of the boat as he could. 
 
 The fish soon began swimming in circles, much 
 to Mr. Adams' dehght, whose experience told him 
 that it was evidence of waning powers, and he 
 
 179 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 quietly encouraged the lad to patience and cau- 
 tion. Matt's home-made and very serviceable 
 landing net was handy, and as the fish came once 
 more by the boat and near the surface the net 
 was deftly slid under it and lifted into the boat 
 by Mr. Adams. It proved to be a striped bass of 
 about six pounds weight. 
 
 The joy of the lad knew no bounds. He was 
 hilarious with pride over his conquest, and he 
 i^loated over it like some victor might who had 
 taken a prize. It was the largest fish he had 
 ever taken and the first one of importance from 
 the salt water. "This," said Mr. Adams, "is 
 conclusive evidence in support of what I have so 
 jiiany times said: If anglers would confine their 
 efi^orts more to the head waters of our bays and 
 rivers they would be well repaid for their en- 
 deavors." Two good-sized weakfish were added 
 to their catch during the afternoon, both of them 
 on the shrimp bait, and the boy was enamored of 
 the sport as well as the men, who greatly enjoyed 
 the boy's enthusiasm over the splendid colors 
 and form of the weakfish. "They're mos' zactly 
 like a trout," he said, as he turned them over and 
 examined them critically. "They got square tails 
 an' are pink all over 'em an' spots. I wonder if 
 they ain't some kind'a trout?" 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Adams, "the same question 
 was asked more than one hundred years ago and 
 by a head much older and wiser than yours, and 
 it has been asked over and over ever since by 
 
 180 
 
UNEXPECTED JOYS 
 
 many, but the answer seems as far away as ever," 
 and the man contemplated with affection the boy 
 who was unconsciously an enthusiastic naturalist. 
 Then, turning to his bass, the lad said: "If Aunt 
 Mary could on'y see this fish she'd be near loony, 
 but I bet she'd try to tell herself she was the reason 
 I got him. She's funny that way, but good." 
 
 He again went to the store before dark and 
 carried letters from each ot them to the home 
 folks, one of which went to the hired man, telling 
 him what day to meet them at the boat landing. 
 
 As he returned to camp the odor of broiling 
 fish came to his nostrils while some distance away, 
 and as he entered the camp he remarked: I bet 
 you ain't got enough for on'y me." But the plate 
 of soft crabs, in addition to the fish, came as a 
 surprise to him, and the two men enjoyed watch- 
 ing the lad's eager disposition of the appetizing 
 sea food. "Seems 'ough salt water's got the best 
 o' all the world for things what's good," he went 
 on as the meal progressed. "Is it as good as here 
 wherever the's salt water?" he asked. He was 
 told that there was vast difference in fish as well 
 as birds in and around different waters, and that 
 there were no crabs such as he was eating in the 
 cold climate, although there were many fine fish 
 in the northern seas, some as fine as in the warmer 
 waters. 
 
 On the day upon which packing up for home 
 was being done the boy's actions were pathetic. 
 He wandered many times to the little river's 
 
 i8i 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 bank and gazed down toward the bay where he 
 had had so many pleasant surprises in the brief 
 week they had spent in the camp. Crabs, shrimps, 
 and many of the salt-water fishes had become 
 familiar to him. He had inhaled the glorious air 
 of the salt water marshes, and his very soul was 
 rich with the experience and joy of it all. Mr. 
 Woodhull's condition was inspiring. He was no 
 longer the anaemic man we first met. There was 
 bloom on his cheek and vigor in his voice, while 
 rugged action played through his muscles. As to 
 Mr. Adams, he was sincerely delighted with it all. 
 He had as companions the quiet man, who was so 
 rapidly being rejuvenated, and the boy — the 
 whimsical, golden-hearted Matt, who had all un- 
 consciously woven himself into the heart of the 
 man of wealth. What though there were freckles 
 on nose and cheek and his cap was to be seen on 
 his head hind side in front more often than in its 
 proper place, he no longer saw such things; he 
 looked beyond and down into the depth of his 
 honest gray eyes and read there the glow of the 
 true nature lover who would rather watch a bird 
 build its nest or delve into the mysteries of a 
 spawning fish than see any display of wealth and 
 power. While the latter might for the moment 
 startle and surprise him, still his love was not with it, 
 and he knew from his experience in life that such 
 as love the call of the wild are to be trusted in 
 the affairs of men. 
 As the hour for departure arrived the lad 
 182 
 
UNEXPECTED JOYS 
 
 wandered down to the bank near the pool where 
 he had caught the bass and weakfish, and he stood 
 drinking in the fascination of the surrounding 
 scenery as though loath to leave its charm, won- 
 dering in his boyish mind if he would ever again 
 visit the spot. Ah, Matt, you were not the first 
 of your kind, neither will you be the last to be in 
 such a mood. Little did you know that moment 
 that in future years every foot of the surrounding 
 country would be as familiar to you as your own 
 dooryard, and that your hounds would nose out 
 game to fall to your gun throughout the adjacent 
 swamps, while the lairs of fur-bearing animals 
 would be as familiar to you as to their owners. 
 
 The writer knows all these things, for he trailed 
 behind you while yet too young to have a gun and 
 saw you pick at leisure the passenger pigeons from 
 the tops of the very tall pinoaks in the swamps, 
 and with the gun which your boyhood friend, 
 Mr. Adams, sent as a Christmas present when 
 you became old enough to care for it properly. 
 
 The pool and stretches of bay over which your 
 eyes roam and to which you so lately came a 
 stranger and have enjoyed the dehghts of its 
 denizens both on the hook and at the table, all 
 these in future years are to add to your pleasures, 
 for the man becomes the offspring of the boy. 
 
 Pulling against the stream, they made slower 
 progress than on their way down, and it was past 
 noon when they arrived at the boat owner's 
 home. Their team was waiting for them, and it 
 
 183 
 
FISHING WITH A ROY 
 
 was not long before their equipment was loaded 
 and they were headed for home. Matt, as when 
 coming down, was perched on top of the duffle 
 and with his quick eye taking every moving ob- 
 ject under observation and most of the time 
 whistling quietly. As they passed the spot where 
 they had encountered Ned Southard, Matt gave 
 one of his peculiar cat-like calls to attract atten- 
 tion and then queried: "Wonder if his breeches'd 
 stand 'nother dustin' 'thout cuttin' through? 
 Gosh, but that ol' whip set up close!" Then 
 suddenly changing his mood, he said, "Hope 
 Aunt Mary's well." That, to him, very important 
 personage was at the gate as they drove up. 
 Matt jumped to the ground and, kissing her 
 warmly, said, "Gee, that ham o' yourn was great!" 
 Aunt Mary, as was easy to see, was greatly pleased 
 to see that all was well with them, but she could 
 not refrain trom her custom of rebuke, and said 
 rather sharply: "Matt Buckley, ain't you ever 
 goin' to get over talkin' about what you've had 
 to eat or goin' to have?" 
 
 As the boy piled his traps inside the gate he 
 kept up a run of talk until the aunt, putting her 
 hand squarely over his mouth, said, "Now let 
 somebody talk that can say somethin'," and turn- 
 ing to the men, asked, "How's he behaved?" 
 
 "Don't worry about Matt," said Mr. Adams in 
 a very kind manner. "He'll do among men any 
 time." As they startetl away Matt said: "I'm 
 goin' for frogs to-morrow; got to make up for the 
 
UNEXPECTED JOYS 
 
 time I been away." Mr. Woodhull said, "We'll 
 be out for catties before the week is done." And 
 so they drove away. 
 
 Boy-like, Matt tried to tell his aunt all at one 
 time of the many new fine things he had seen 
 and done while away, and when it came to the 
 striped bass there was no way in which he could 
 express to his satisfaction his view of it, so he 
 wound up with: "He was jest a wallopin' han'som' 
 fish, an' he eat better'n chicken fried." He was 
 in the woodshed putting away his beloved poles 
 and cherished landing net, now to be doubly 
 precious to him, with their salt-water memories, 
 when he heard his aunt calling to him to come to 
 the house at once. She was standing in the middle 
 of the kitchen, an empty jam jar in one hand and 
 a napkin in the other, to which was pinned some- 
 thing strongly resembling money. The jar had 
 been washed clean and the napkin put in it so it 
 could not get lost, and pinned to the three five- 
 dollar bills was the following note: 
 
 "My Dear Mrs. Buckley: 
 
 "Permit me to hand you this small sum of 
 money in consideration of the time I have de- 
 prived you of your boy. Cherish him and 
 have no fears, for he will grow up to be a 
 source of maintenance as well as comfort to 
 you. He has given me a week of solid comfort 
 and delight. Sincerely yours, 
 
 "Mr. Adams." 
 185 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 There was just a suspicion of a tear in the eyes 
 of Aunt Mary as she put her arm over the lad's 
 shoulder, and as they walked to the door to- 
 gether she said, "Most everybody says good 
 things about you. Matt, but — " and the boy 
 broke in with his familiar giggle, "I'll bet it is 
 owin' to your bringin' of me up, Gosh!" 
 
 *' Through hillside slopes and meadows green 
 And on to shaded glen. 
 The rivers run to meet the tides 
 As run the ajffairs of men.^' 
 
 i86 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 Reflections and Incidents 
 
 For several days after the return of the fishing 
 party from the head waters of the river and bay 
 where Matt had had his first experience with 
 salt-water fish, the delighted youth was ever re- 
 peating to anyone who would listen his wonderful 
 tale of it all. Safe to say that none of his speci- 
 mens were underestimated as to size or fighting 
 ability, nor were their gastronomic qualities over- 
 looked in the telling, particularly the soft crabs. 
 "I wonder who dared to eat the first one," he 
 commented. "I'm glad someone did, an' when 
 Mr. x-^dams fries 'em, u-u-u-m!" One matter in 
 particular he dwelt on and talked it over day by 
 day and apparently could not get settled in his 
 mind, and that was the episode of the "empty 
 bottle" which traveled against the current of the 
 river. True, he had witnessed it and Mr. Adams 
 had explained to him how tides always work 
 first at the bottom, yet, as he argued, "It's all 
 solid water, clean from top to bottom, an' how 
 one part goes one way an' the rest t'other gets 
 me. 
 
 One day Matt was busy in the house with some 
 of his belongings and had them pretty well 
 strewn about the floor, while his tongue ran on in 
 
 187 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 ceaseless chatter about what to him had been 
 such marvelous things. It was raining hard out- 
 side and Aunt Mary, as she busied herself about 
 the kitchen, did not hesitate to remove with no 
 gentle touch of her foot such things as were, or 
 what she fancied might be, in her way. "Good 
 land, Matt!" she at last broke out, "what on 
 earth do you want with all this trash in the house .^ 
 Makes the place look 'bout like a hog pen." And 
 she gave a vigorous shove to a small box the lad 
 had just finished nailing to his apparent satisfac- 
 tion. "The woodshed's good enough for such 
 work, and I don't see why you didn't stay there." 
 "Nobody to talk to out there," returned the 
 boy; " 'sides, I sort-a like to have folks kick 
 things 'round some, 'nen if they don't break I 
 know they're good an' strong." For a moment 
 Aunt Mary glared at Matt in a threatening man- 
 ner, but restraining herself from more active 
 measures she went over to a shelf on which re- 
 posed sundry small articles of kitchen utility, 
 among which were the salt and pepper shakers 
 which had been used by the trio on their fishing 
 excursion and had been unpacked by the old lady 
 and placed on the shelf, where they had since 
 reposed. Picking up the one which contained the 
 pepper she turned it over and gave it a vigorous 
 shake over the palm of her hand to learn if it 
 were empty. Getting no results, she unscrewed 
 the top and stood looking intently at the inside 
 without comment for several seconds, then she 
 
 i88 
 
REFLECTIONS 
 
 blurted out: "What'd you folks want to stuff 
 paper in the pepper box for? The's no danger of 
 it leakin' out much." 
 
 "Didn't know as anybody did," rejoined Matt, 
 without looking up from his work. "It let pepper 
 out good when we used it." Aunt Mary had by 
 this time applied the tine of a table fork to the 
 offending paper in her usual forceful manner, 
 when, to her utter amazement, two five-dollar 
 bills were impaled on the fork and lifted out. 
 Her back was toward the boy, and she stood 
 contemplating the money for several seconds in a 
 perfect maze of astonishment; then she said in a 
 quick, nervous way: "Matt, come here and look 
 at this paper." 
 
 "I d'know nothin' about it," he returned. "If 
 somebody wants to cut a fool caper an' wad 
 paper in a pepper-box, why, let 'em. It's easy 
 pulled out; 'sides, it don't hurt nothin'." And 
 without even looking up he kept busily at his 
 work. 
 
 "This kind o' paper don't hurt nobody when 
 they get it, I reckon," came back the answer, 
 "and if you wasn't so peart an' set in your ways 
 you'd pay some attention when you're talked 
 to," and she waved the money, still on the fork, 
 before the eyes of the now equally astonished 
 Matt. He let his knife and the bait-stick for a 
 box trap on which he had been working drop to 
 the floor with a clatter. 
 
 "I d'know," he exclaimed when he could find 
 189 
 
FISHING ^^' I T H A BOY 
 
 words; "seems 'ough Mr. Adams or Mr. Wood- 
 hull must-a done it; I d'know. Maybe they put 
 together an' fixed it up. Mr. Adams said he 
 would see that I was paid for my time away 
 from froggin', an' I s'pose he done it this way; 
 I d'know." The lad was in such bewilderment of 
 surprise and delight over their good fortune that 
 he scarcely realized what he was saying. Here 
 was twenty-five dollars, counting the other dona- 
 tion, for his time while away on the most delight- 
 ful experience of his young life, and it is doubtful 
 if he had ever before seen a greater sum together 
 at one time. But he did not seem to feel that the 
 m.oney was in any way to be applied to his per- 
 sonal comfort. It was just "theirs." Aunt 
 Mary had it, and that was entirely right and 
 proper in his estimation. "Well," observed that 
 lady, "it's mighty welcome, and is a token of 
 gratitude from them for what we've showed 'em 
 about fish and fishin' around here, as well as 
 some other things. Mos' folks, though, get about 
 all they can of such things without givin' 
 back much in return. It's a nice present an' " — 
 "It's owin' some to your bringin' of me up," ex- 
 claimed Matt, who never missed a chance to take 
 a fling at his aunt whenever she usurped what he 
 considered his rightful prerogative. "Gosh! it's 
 a wonder the's a fish left in the brooks, the way 
 you know how to find 'em. But," he continued 
 in a more conciliatory tone, "we got the money, 
 an' he was willin' to give it; mos' likely it's his 
 
 190 
 
REFLECTIONS 
 
 way o' helpin' them he takes to." Then, giving 
 his mouth that most pecuHar twist for which he 
 was famous, he said, "The's no use settin' of a 
 widder's cap for him, he's married." 
 
 This was too much. "Matt Buckley!" fairly 
 hissed the old lady, "I ain't settin' no caps, 
 widders or any kind, an' if I hear any more fool 
 talk like that we'll have a ruction that your hide 
 won't relish." 
 
 Mart's thrust had accompHshed its mission of 
 peeving the aunt, and gathering up his trappings 
 he went out. The peak of his cap was over one 
 ear, and he began whistling what at that period 
 was a most popular air, "Up in a Balloon, Boys." 
 Aunt Mary was quick to gather the connection, 
 and seizing the near-by broom made a rush for 
 the lad as he passed through the door, but the 
 nimble-footed ^Iatt was well out of reach as the 
 broom came around with a swish and landed 
 against one of the porch posts. 
 
 The rain had nearly ceased falling, and the lad 
 was busy with his affairs in the woodshed. He 
 had not gone back for the remainder of his trap- 
 pings, which he could not carry on his first trip 
 for obvious reasons. While he knew that his 
 aunt's anger was not really deep, still to maintain 
 her authority without semblance of weakening, 
 she might give him what he called a "clip" while 
 he was off his guard, and so he remained outside. 
 
 After possibly an hour had passed he heard her 
 calling him from the porch, and his usual "Be 
 
 191 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 there in a minute" was the response. Then he 
 began wondering what the call could be for. 
 "It's the store, I guess," he reasoned, and, laying 
 down his work, proceeded to the house, where, to 
 his surprise, was seated the elder Southard. 
 "Matt," began his aunt, "I sent for Mr. Southard 
 to come over and have a talk about you and Ned. 
 The's no sense o' two boys what's neighbors bein' 
 always in a fight." 
 
 "Course the's no sense to it," broke in Matt 
 quickly, "an' if he'd on'y le' me alone the'd be 
 no ructions; 'sides, he's bigger'n me an' stronger, 
 an' knows I can't give him the wallopin' that's 
 fittin' him. He's alius pickin' on me, not carin' 
 whether he kills me or no. I might-a drowned 
 when he soused me in the creek that night; 'sides, 
 it's full o' snags that my head might-a landed on." 
 
 "You're not sure it was Ned what throwed you 
 in," rejoined Mr. Southard. "I have talked with 
 him, and he denies it." 
 
 "Course he'd deny it," interjected Matt. "He's 
 too meachin' mean to own up to what he's ever 
 done; 'sides, I ketched him lyin' about it in the 
 wheelwright's shop, an' I soused hot glue in his 
 hair good an' plenty," and Matt grinned at the 
 remembrance. "Lots o' times he's hit me an' 
 hurt me bad, but I never squealed much, but lay 
 awake an' got 'bout even some way, an' I alius 
 will 'less he kills me first. Mr, Adams says I 
 can have the law on him for what he's a'ready 
 done, i)ut I can do my own settlin'," and rising 
 
REFLECTIONS 
 
 from his chair, he walked over to where Mr. 
 Southard sat and with a spirit he seldom exhibited 
 and despite Aunt Mary's endeavors to check him, 
 continued: "Ned's picked on me plenty an' 
 more'n I'd ever stan' for again. If he's a mind to 
 quit an' call things square I won't bother him no 
 more; but 'less he does I'll cowhide him till both 
 my arms ache, an' I know how I'll do it, too. I 
 got frien's a-plenty," and despite Aunt Mary's 
 injunctions to "sit down an' keep quiet," he 
 turned on his heel and walked out of the house, 
 closing the door in no gentle manner behind him. 
 
 "Good land!" exclaimed his aunt, holding up 
 both hands in horror. "Such spirit; I never seen 
 him so before, never." And that was as near to 
 an open compromise as was ever effected between 
 the belligerents. 
 
 At the supper table that night his aunt chided 
 him for the open spirit of rebellion he had shown 
 when Mr. Southard called during the day, saying 
 that during their talk he had expressed a desire 
 to have the two get together and have an agree- 
 ment to be good friends in the future. "I'm only 
 a boy," returned Matt, "but I ain't no ninny, an' 
 I know as well as I want to that Ned knows he's 
 wrong an' his father knows he's wrong, else he 
 wouldn't a come over; 'sides, the's been talk 'bout 
 going to the squire over his throwin' me in the 
 water. 'Twas as like to have killed me as not, 
 but the talk ain't come from me an' won't. All 
 he's got to do is walk on his own side o' the road 
 13 193 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 an' I won't pester him none. If he don't, he'll git 
 a hidin', an' the's more'n one pair o' hands to 
 help me do it. Mr. Adams* hired man ain't 
 forgot the clout o' dirt he got 'longside the head, 
 but," he added, as if to confirm his promise, "I 
 ain't startin' nothin'. The's more fear o' what 
 the law might do a'count o' what he's done to 
 me than for any care 'bout me gettin' hurt. Mr. 
 Adams says he can be took up any time for 
 'salt,' but I don't know what he means." 
 
 "Good sakes. Matt! do some time learn to 
 talk," said the aunt. "What Mr. Adams meant 
 was that anybody what strikes or injures another 
 body can be arrested for what the laws call 
 'asalt,' " and so the weighty matter was left for 
 Matt's mind to conjure with, while Aunt Mary 
 felt duly relieved. She, however, particularly re- 
 minded him that he had best not start more 
 trouble with Southard if he knew what was 
 healthy for himself. The boy's enterprises were 
 adding so materially to the old lady's comforts 
 that while she still kept a "tight rein" over him, 
 as she termed it, still they were daily becoming 
 more confidential, and what previously had been 
 strict commands from the elder were usually dis- 
 cussed between them. When alone the lad would 
 slap his knee as was his custom, as if confirming 
 his opinions that Aunt Mary was "coniin' 'round 
 some." 
 
 194 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 The Leopard of the Lake 
 
 The cooling days of early autumn had arrived, 
 and Matt had been industriously plying his vo- 
 cation of gathering frogs, and found they were 
 not nearly so plentiful as earlier in the season, 
 and he also realized that the gathering of the 
 crops would soon begin with the farmers, and he 
 usually had considerable work among them, tak- 
 ing corn and potatoes as pay. While he would 
 greatly prefer gathering frogs or trapping, still 
 corn and potatoes were essentials, and he would 
 not shirk the duty when the time arrived. Al- 
 ready he had spoken to two farmers, offering his 
 services, so there was plenty of work in line for 
 him. 
 
 Aunt Mary, with her accustomed prudence, had 
 been stocking their larder for the coming winter 
 with such commodities as could be safely laid in, 
 and a full barrel of flour as yet unopened stood 
 in the corner of the kitchen, a thing which the 
 little cottage had never before known. Thanks 
 also to Matt's industry and good fortune, her 
 purse was yet far from empty. 
 
 It was at the close of a blustery day. Con- 
 siderable rain had fallen and there were fitful 
 gusts of wind which swept the vines clambering 
 
 195 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 about the little porch, now this way, now that, 
 while there was a decided chill in the air. 
 
 "Where have you been gallivantin' now?" said 
 the aunt as the lad came into the house, wet and 
 with considerable mud clinging to his shoes, 
 which roused her ire, and she said with her wonted 
 sharpness, "I s'pose the scraper outside is a 
 orniment an' not for muddy shoes." 
 
 Matt glanced down at his feet, then stepped out- 
 side and was soon industriously removing the 
 offending mud; then he removed his shoes and 
 dropped them in the shed with a clatter, and 
 once more entering the kitchen sat down by the 
 stove, his cap, as usual, draped to one side. He 
 seemed buried in thought. His aunt, accustomed 
 to these moods, said no more, knowing well that 
 when the time seemed auspicious to him he would 
 unbosom to her his conclusions. 
 
 For a long time he sat gazing out of the window. 
 After a while he said: "Mr. Woodhull's goin' to 
 send me some steeltraps when he's back in New 
 York. I took a trip along the brooks an' bogs, 
 and there's lots o' mus'rats this year, an' I seen 
 some mink tracks, too. Fur'll be comin' on good 
 time huskin's done. A dozen traps won't cost 
 heavy. One good mink's skin'll about pay for 'em." 
 
 "You're a-goin' to be in the schoolhouse this 
 winter," returned the aunt firmly, "an' you won't 
 have time to tend to traps much. I want you to 
 learn to read an' write good. You'll be called a 
 reg'lar brook loafer next." 
 
 196 
 
THE LEOPARD OF THE LAKE 
 
 "Them as wants to let 'em," replied Matt 
 stoutly. "Mr. Adams says dollars what comes 
 honest is all right, an' I d'know but what mus'rat 
 money's good as any, as long as it buys what we 
 want; 'sides, them an' minks is pests. The's 
 nights an' Sat'days to look after traps." 
 
 "It's you're bein' along the brook an' in the 
 woods all the time that I think most of, with 
 your mind only on such things," responded his 
 aunt. Matt made no immediate rejoinder, but 
 got up and looked earnestly down the road, and 
 then said: "I mos' forgot to say I met Mr. Stil- 
 well to-day an' made a bargain with him for four 
 loads of wood. I give him four days huskin' an' 
 help him cart the wood when we want it." 
 
 Aunt Mary remained silent for a full minute, 
 then asked: "How did you happen to think of the 
 wood?" 
 
 "Well, I had sense to know we wanted it an' I 
 knowed he had huskin' to do an' so when I was 
 loafin' 'long the brook thinkin' o' nothin' in the 
 rain I seen him in his meadow lookin' at where 
 the mus'rats had been diggin' big holes all over, 
 an' I made the wood bargain; 'sides, he is to give 
 me ten cents apiece for all the mus'rats I trap 
 on his land." 
 
 Aunt Mary looked the rebuke she felt and was 
 framing her reply when a knock came on the door. 
 "It's Mr. i\dams," said Matt. "I seen him 
 comin'." 
 
 That gentleman, clad in rubber clothing, took 
 
 197 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 a seat, after receiving a warm welcome from the 
 aunt. His many generous acts had won for him 
 a warm place in her heart, and she was glad of 
 his presence. 
 
 "Mr. Woodhull is going back to the city in a 
 few days," began their visitor, after some com- 
 monplaces, "and I will soon leave on a business 
 trip; so I just ran down from the store to see how 
 you feel about trying for pickerel to-morrow if it 
 does not rain too hard. The water is cooling 
 down some, and if the weather is cloudy all the 
 better." Matt sat regarding his friend intently 
 for fully a minute before making reply, then asked 
 in his quaint way, "Is pickerel pike, Mr. Adams?" 
 
 "Well," he replied, "a pickerel is a pike, but a 
 pike is not a pickerel," and he toyed with his 
 watch charm, enjoying to the fullest the puzzled 
 look on the boy's face. Matt slid down deeper 
 in his chair, his hands clasping both knees, while 
 his toe played abstractedly with the hearth of 
 the stove. At length he said, "Unhook me, 
 please, Mr. Adams, I've balked." 
 
 Aunt Mary and Mr. Adams both laughed at 
 the drollery of the remark, and the gentleman 
 then said: "The pike family is really a large one 
 and embraces many important species, one of 
 which is the pickerel, which can easily be told by 
 its greenish color and chainlike markings along 
 its side. It is found east of the Mississippi River 
 in almost all streams, and is a good, game fish, 
 frequently reaching the weight of from eight to 
 
 1 98 
 
THE LEOPARD OF THE LAKE 
 
 ten pounds, while its cousin of northern lakes and 
 rivers, a swift and hard-fighting fish called the 
 muskellunge, often reaches the weight of from 
 thirty-five to forty pounds." 
 
 Aunt Mary was deeply interested in the recital, 
 and Matt, when Mr. Adams quit speaking, said, 
 "What'd you say the name was?" Mr. Adams 
 repeated the name, giving each syllable slowly, 
 the boy repeating it under his breath, as could be 
 told by the working of his lips. He made no 
 further comment than "Twice as big as my 
 carp, gosh!" 
 
 The following day proved dark and heavy. 
 Clouds were scurrying across the sky as the 
 three started for the old factory pond about five 
 miles to the westward. It was a famous place 
 for pickerel, as the pond had not been drawn 
 down for many years, and large fish were reported 
 to be had among the great patches of lily pads 
 at the head of the stream. 
 
 Matt, as usual, sat in the rear of the wagon 
 with his feet swinging, his discerning eye taking 
 in every object within range. Minnows were in 
 a pail near the lad, and had been taken from the 
 creek before starting, as it was not certain that 
 they could be found where they were to fish. 
 Mr. Adams had remarked casually that he in- 
 tended trying out some "plugs" he had with him, 
 which elicited no reply from the lad. He merely 
 cast an inquisitive look, remembering the "Lima 
 bean" episode. 
 
 199 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 As soon as a boat had been secured the boy had 
 gone down below the dam, where he was busily 
 at work with a linen thread and small hook, and 
 soon returned with several "sunnies," which he 
 carelessly tossed into the boat with the remark: 
 "Their bellies, with the fins left on, is prime for 
 pike." As Mr. VVoodhull rowed leisurely toward 
 the head of the pond, Mr. Adams opened a tin 
 box containing artificial frogs, as well as sundry 
 plugs, spinners, and other paraphernalia entirely 
 unknown to Matt. For a few minutes he gazed 
 in mute wonder at the display and then asked 
 bluntly, "What's them things?" 
 
 Mr. Adams explained the various articles and 
 how they were used, none of which seemed to 
 appeal to the boy's ideas of utihty until a rather 
 large "phantom minnow," with its green back 
 and vari-colored sides was brought out. He ex- 
 amined it with a critical eye, turning it around 
 and back, inspected the little spinners at the ends 
 as well as the burrs of hooks on the sides, then 
 said: "She looks as if the's some sense in tryin' 
 her if you keep her goin' plenty an' jerk her about." 
 Regarding the plugs he said nothing, and was soon 
 busy arranging his line and hooks to his liking. 
 
 Both sides of the pond were lined with great 
 patches of lily pads or "spatterdock," as it was 
 called, and it was well up to the head of the 
 stream and between two patches of the lily pads 
 that they made their rtrst trial. The lad and Mr. 
 WoodhuU used minnows, placing their baits well 
 
 200 
 
THE LEOPARD OF THE LAKE 
 
 up to the edge of the sheltering pads, while Mr. 
 Adams, adjusting one of the incongruous-looking 
 plugs, and with the help of the reel he was using, 
 cast well over; then rapidly retrieving his line the 
 lure could be seen darting from side to side as it 
 approached the boat. Matt watched it eagerly, 
 but made no comment. Several times Mr. Adams 
 cast without result, and was changing to another 
 type when Matt grabbed his pole with the quiet 
 remark, "There she goes," and true enough his 
 float was moving rapidly toward the pads with 
 long dives, until it finally disappeared entirely. 
 Then he struck and hooked his fish, and after 
 much cutting around the boat Mr. Woodhull 
 slipped the net under a fine three-pound fish. 
 
 There was just a trace of triumph in the lad's 
 voice when he said, "I guess minnies is 'bout the 
 thing when you want fish." Mr. Adams had put 
 on his line one of those nondescript affairs with 
 blunt nose and brilliantly painted sides, when it 
 caught the lad's eye, and giving it a quizzical look 
 he simply said, "That's worse than t'other one." 
 
 Standing up in the boat, Mr. Adams made a 
 long cast over the stern and the plug landed with 
 a splash close up to the pads, when there was 
 another splash, followed by a great swirl, and the 
 lure was sent whirling several feet over the water. 
 Matt gasped and Mr. Adams chuckled. "That's 
 on'y pike swearin'," said the boy as soon as he 
 could command words. "He's mad at seein' the 
 thing an' tried to knock it out o' the pond." 
 
 20I 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 It was such whimsical conceits that endeared 
 the lad to his older companions, and it was an 
 asset of which he was unaware. 
 
 Try as he would, Mr. /\dams could get no more 
 rises to his lure, while Mr. Woodhull and Matt 
 each took a fish. "Seems 'ough it's a poor day 
 for pluggin', Mr. Adams," said Matt with a giggle; 
 "better fish with somethin' they want." 
 
 Mr. Adams made no reply, but seating himself 
 he put on the phantom minnow and cast over 
 to where he had had the first rise. As he began 
 taking in line there came a splash and whirl in 
 the water and his line began running out swiftly, 
 while his rod bent and swayed under the impulses 
 of a heavy fish. Matt became excited as the line 
 cut swiftly through the water, and was worried, 
 fearing the fish would get among the roots of the 
 plants and tear loose, but there was a hand at the 
 rod that had managed many such fish, and while 
 giving full play to the quarry in open water, still 
 he managed to steer it clear of all obstructions 
 and gradually the pliant rod brought the un- 
 willing captive nearer the boat in ever-narrowing 
 circles. 
 
 Matt was standing ready with the landing net, 
 his own rod neglected in his excitement. "Keep 
 back the net," said Mr. Adams, as the fish made 
 a rush by the side of the boat. "Never try to get 
 a fish until it is led head first to the net, because 
 when the slightest thing touches its tail it is sure 
 to spring forward and is very liable to unhook." 
 
 202 
 
THE LEOPARD OF THE LAKE 
 
 Following the instructions given, the net was 
 placed directly in front of the fish on its next 
 circle and was deftly lifted into the boat, much 
 to the satisfaction of Mr. Adams and the joy of 
 the lad, who fairly shouted, "Gee, what a whopper 
 pike!" It was fully five pounds in weight and 
 beautifully marked. 
 
 "This is the true pickerel," observed Mr. 
 Adams, "and is clearly characterized by the chain- 
 like links on the body, usually thirteen in number, 
 on the center line from the gill opening to the tail. 
 In colonial days it was known as the 'Federation 
 Pike,' and still retains that title in some local- 
 ities. It is always a bully among its fellows, de- 
 pending more on hiding behind some cover, 
 from which it darts out and seizes its prey, than 
 on general pursuit. If we could have seen this 
 fellow before he sampled my minnow we would 
 have found him with body well behind the large 
 roots of the lily pads and with head just protrud- 
 ing, watching every moving object, and when the 
 splash came on the water and the bait began 
 moving away his curiosity was aroused and he 
 struck." 
 
 "He was a plum fool," said the irrepressible 
 boy. "The's no sense as I can see in grabbin' 
 what they don't know is good. The's no taste 
 nor smell to that thing." 
 
 "Well," asked Mr. Woodhull, "don't you some- 
 times like to examine things you don't quite 
 understand?" 
 
 203 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 "I suppose I do," was the answer, "but I don't 
 
 b- > >> 
 ite em. 
 
 In all, ten fish were taken on that memorable 
 afternoon, and all of good size. Matt had cleaned 
 one of the sunnies and, using the belly with fins 
 on, by skittering near the lily pads had hooked 
 and landed one about the same size as the first 
 one he took. 
 
 "Seems 'ough they'll take a'most anything 
 that's movin'," he commented. 
 
 "Yes," returned Mr. Adams, "there is nothing 
 safe from their maws that is small enough for them 
 to master. There are stories going about that are 
 hard to believe true of the many things that have 
 been found in their stomachs. Sure it is, how- 
 ever, that young ducks are not exempt, as well 
 as many other objects. They have, as you can 
 see, murderous teeth that, once set fast, are hard 
 to release. They are a truly game fish, and are, 
 in their way, as much so as either the trout or 
 black bass, neither of which are in these streams. 
 
 As they rowed to the dam to make their start 
 homeward Mr. Adams insisted on putting the 
 large fish on Matt's string, saying as he did so: 
 "Someone may give you a good price for it; any- 
 way, you will have a beautiful specimen of the 
 'Leopard of the Lake.' " 
 
 2 04 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Randolph Jones 
 
 Contemporaneous with the boy Matt was 
 Randolph Jones, a tall, gaunt negro, who was 
 known far and near as "Randall," or more fre- 
 quently as "Uncle Randall." It was not, how- 
 ever, until the boy was nearing man's estate that 
 they were thrown together by force of their sur- 
 roundings, and the negro was at that time ap- 
 proximately seventy-five years of age, active and 
 vigorous. He was always smoothly shaven and 
 his skin ebony black and possessed of very prom- 
 inent teeth. From my earliest recollection he 
 was ever complaining of the misery in his feet, or, 
 as he himself frequently termed it, "jest nigger 
 rheumatism;" and always during cold weather he 
 had his feet encased in burlap or other coarse 
 material. Usually, and particularly when he 
 knew he was observed, he walked with a most 
 pronounced hmp. Not that many believed him 
 seriously afflicted, however. It was generally 
 regarded as byplay, at which he was an adept, to 
 enlist the sympathies of the credulous. 
 
 The two could not in any sense be regarded as 
 companions, as Matt lived and died the soul of 
 honor, while of the negro as much could not be 
 truthfully told. He was hailed before the courts 
 
 205 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 on many occasions and not always cleared of the 
 charges brought against him, his penchant for 
 neighborhood chickens being his mortal weak- 
 ness. It is rather because of incidents which link 
 their histories that he is sketched here, and not 
 because of analogy in character. 
 
 The aged negro was superlatively supersti- 
 tious, and would spin ghost stories by the hour 
 to those who would give him audience, this weak- 
 ness being the cause of his undoing on many 
 occasions, and Matt, with his penchant for fun, 
 was ever ready to lend a hand to round out the 
 enterprise. 
 
 One of the old man's antipathies was snapping 
 turtles. "They's debbils 'ncarnat','' he would ex- 
 claim whenever the subject was mentioned in 
 his presence. "Nothin' like 'em is fitten to eat; 
 'sides, dey's tokens o' death or trouble to any 
 what meets up with 'em. Yes, sah, when de good 
 Lord made his critters he suah turned snappin' 
 turtles ober to de debbil as a pester to folks an' 
 to bring us warnin's." 
 
 At the time of which this is v/ritten he lived 
 much alone in his little home of two downstairs 
 rooms and an attic, his wife having died several 
 years previously. His children were married and 
 away, excepting one daughter, Hannah, who 
 would pay an occasional visit to the old home, 
 straightening up affairs in the house and making 
 repairs to the father's clothing. 
 
 He kept a cow and some chickens, and had a 
 206 
 
RANDOLPH JONES 
 
 really choice collection of fruits on his little lot, 
 two items I particularly remember being quinces 
 and Bartlett pears. 
 
 His time was spent mostly among the farmers 
 of the neighborhood, for despite his age, he was 
 a good hand at most kinds of farm work, and at 
 tree grafting he was really an expert and was fre- 
 quently called to considerable distances to do 
 such work. 
 
 On one occasion while at work for a Judge 
 
 B , who owned a beautiful farm, he asked 
 
 permission to take home a pail of bran to make 
 "slop" for his cow, as he termed it. The request 
 was granted, and the pail was duly returned, with 
 thanks, the following morning. After a few days 
 the same request was made and readily granted, 
 and all seemed well. However, on the third re- 
 quest, after he had put the bran in the pail and 
 was entering the house for his supper, the judge, 
 either through accident or design, tipped the pail 
 over on the brick walk on which it was resting, 
 when, lo, out rolled ten or twelve eggs. The old 
 darkey seemed as surprised as anyone and ex- 
 claimed in the most matter-of-fact way: "It's 
 s'prisin', it's mos' s'prisin', Jedge, how them aigs 
 could-a bin in that pail an' 1 not seein' 'em when 
 I dumped in the bran." Needless to say, the old 
 cow went without her "slop" that night and 
 Uncle Randall minus his "aigs." 
 
 On another occasion when hailed before the 
 court on the charge of taking undue liberties 
 
 207 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 with a farmer's flock of hens, the presiding judge 
 said sternly: "Randolph Jones, you are here 
 charged with stealing chickens from the farm of 
 
 Mr. D . Are you guilty or not guilty?" The 
 
 darkey, with his usual imperturbability, looked 
 around the courtroom for some seconds, then re- 
 plied stoutly: "Jedge, I jest can't say 'til 1 hears 
 some ev'dence." For years this unique plea was 
 a byword through the community and is still well 
 remembered by many. 
 
 Came a very warm day during an extraordi- 
 narily early spring. Nature seemed exerting her- 
 self to give premature birth to her infinitude of 
 bud and leaf. The icewater had long since run 
 off through the creeks, and a monstrous mother 
 snapping turtle was slowly wandering along a 
 sandy meadow wash, doubtless seeking a suitable 
 place to deposit her round, white eggs, to be 
 hatched weeks later by the warm rays of the sun. 
 Suddenly she stopped and emitted a sharp hissing 
 sound, then relaxing the muscles of her short, 
 stubby legs, lay with head partially drawn into 
 the capacious shell, her small, beady eyes watch- 
 ing the movements of two men who had invaded 
 her domain. "Hey, Matt!" exclaimed the elder 
 of the two, "here's one of Uncle Randall's pets." 
 When Matt's eyes rested on the find he gave 
 vent to his usual "Gee!" followed by, "Aint she 
 a whopper.^ What a pot of soup!" At this season 
 of the year these animals are at their best, and 
 when properly prepared are really delicious eating. 
 
 208 
 
RANDOLPH JONES 
 
 The turtle, suspended from a stout stick car- 
 ried by the men, disappeared across the meadow, 
 when, on reaching a fence which had some stout 
 wire supports, a "bridle" was made by deftly 
 slipping a portion of the wire between the jaws 
 of the captive, then bending it backward and 
 twisting it tightly beneath the carapace just 
 above the tail, all was rendered harmless from 
 attack by its murderous jaws. 
 
 Just at dusk the following day the two mis- 
 chievous men crept silently through Uncle Ran- 
 dall's garden, carrying between them a wide 
 board on which reposed the turtle, rendered harm- 
 less by the wire bridle and tied securely to the 
 piece of board. On the creature's back just above 
 the head was a gourd, cut with grinning features 
 like a Halloween pumpkin, which was securely 
 fastened by means of wires and strings to the shell. 
 Inside the stub end of a candle reposed in a short 
 socket, needing only the quick application of a 
 match to bring into sharp outline the repulsive 
 features. A window in the rear of the building 
 was raised and their burden, after releasing it 
 from the board, was deposited inside, after which 
 one of the men climbed inside to await a signal 
 to be given by the other from the near-by bushes. 
 They well knew the old man's habits of staying 
 for supper where he worked, and so timed their 
 operations. In due course the cry of a whip- 
 poor-will from Matt behind the bushes caused the 
 match to be applied to the candle by his confed- 
 1* 209 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 erate inside, after which he dropped quickly from 
 the window and quietly lowering it awaited de- 
 velopments from a near-by vantage point. They 
 both well knew the restless habits of the turtle, 
 and had no fear but it would move toward the 
 door as soon as it might be opened. 
 
 The old negro came shuffling along the path, 
 entirely unconscious of the apparition awaiting 
 him. Pushing open the door, his attention was 
 at once riveted on the light, which plainly re- 
 vealed the character of the bearer, which was 
 crawling directly toward him and exhibiting the 
 grinning monstrosity to full advantage. For a 
 moment the old man stood as if petrified, then 
 whirling about with a "Lor' A'mighty, it's come!" 
 went down the path like a cyclone, without clos- 
 ing the door behind him, while his tormentors, 
 rolling on the ground in paroxysms of laughter, 
 could plainly hear his rapid footbeats down the 
 road, his "nigger rheumatism" forgotten or totally 
 disregarded for the period. The nearest family, 
 living perhaps a quarter of a mile distant, had 
 just concluded their evening meal, and had not 
 yet risen from the table when, with a bound, 
 Uncle Randall came into their midst, his eyes 
 rolling, and breathless. When words could be 
 found by the startled people he was asked to 
 explain his antics. For several minutes he was 
 unable to make reply, weaving back and forth 
 and trembling like an aspen. 
 
 He finally settled into a chair and in broken 
 210 
 
RANDOLPH JONES 
 
 sentences wailed: "01' Satan have at las' sent 
 for de ol' man. His mes'nger am here. Hit's no 
 use, de token am come," and he rocked back and 
 forth, moaning pitifully in his terror. A little at 
 a time what he had seen was coaxed from him. 
 "It was an ol' he snappin' turkle mos' as big as 
 a door," he chattered, "an' all lit up with a 
 grinnin' debbil a-settin' on its back. Ah kin 
 neber go back to de ol' home, neber." When some 
 coherency of the story was gained the men began 
 making ready to go down to the house and see 
 for themselves, if possible, the cause of the old 
 man's trepidation. "No, sah, no, sah; not dis 
 night do I go," when asked to accompany them, 
 was his reply. "Wid a he token turtle rampagin' 
 'round? Not me." He was but little composed 
 when, after a half hour's absence, the men re- 
 turned and told him there was no sign of what 
 had so frightened him to be found. "It's right in 
 de room, lessen it's gone to han't some other 
 body," he returned. 
 
 It was quite a month before Uncle Randall 
 could be induced to spend a night in his old 
 home, preferring rather to sleep in barns or other 
 outbuildings than to chance a meeting with the 
 "token turkle" again, and during the balance of 
 his life he ever spoke of the matter as his "ter- 
 rifyin' sperience." 
 
 It was at first thought by the neighbors that 
 the whole story was pure figment, conjured up 
 in the brain of the aged negro. But as they were 
 
 211 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 later on enlightened to some extent by Matt and 
 his companion, they realized that there were 
 some grounds for the story, particularly as his 
 deep-seated fear and hatred of turtles was well 
 known. 
 
 One of his experiences which he would relate 
 with much gusto was how at one period of his 
 life he was the only colored man living in that 
 township, and having some relatives about to 
 visit him, he had them invite some friends; so 
 there was quite a little gathering at the old home. 
 
 All went smoothly until in the evening two of 
 the women folks went out to the shallow well in 
 the back yard, which was not more than eight 
 feet deep, and never contained more than two 
 feet of water, when frantic cries for help arose, 
 supplemented with, "Hi, dere! we'se in de well!" 
 Of course a rush to their assistance was instan- 
 taneous, when one after another of the darkies 
 would disappear from view, followed by wails 
 from those who had preceded them as the latest 
 arrivals landed on their heads. The solution of 
 the mystery was that some one had, when evening 
 came on, moved the frail curbing back just far 
 enough to leave the well opening exposed, so that 
 any one approaching the curb would step directly 
 into the well. All were extricated in due time 
 without serious injury, and in telling of it the old 
 man would chuckle and rub his knees, usually 
 winding up with: "I reckon I'm dc on'y man 
 what ever ketched a well full o' niggers at one 
 
 212 
 
RANDOLPH JONES 
 
 time 'thout bait." No one ever knew who moved 
 that curb on that eventful evening, but Matt, 
 on being questioned many times in relation to it, 
 always denied any part in the plot, generally con- 
 cluding with: "Gee! what'd I do a thing like that 
 for? They were all strangers to me." 
 
 As age increased his infirmities the old man 
 spent much of his time along the creeks, fishing 
 and doing a Httle trapping. He was always glad 
 to find the now mature Matt, to whom he would 
 relate over and over his " 'speriences" with un- 
 canny things, always winding up with his night 
 of terror over the "turkle what was all lit up for 
 a token." He had a pecuHar habit of never going 
 to the store, which was something over a mile 
 distant, without trundling a wheelbarrow, and a 
 certain little brown jug holding about a quart 
 was to be seen among its effects; and yet he was 
 never seen unduly under the effects of liquor, 
 cheap and plentiful as it was in those days. 
 
 He was fairly proficient with the violin, and 
 nothing pleased him more than to have white 
 folks call and ask for a tune, which was usually 
 met with the excuse that the "ol' fiddle was not 
 gwine jest as good as he would laik," but he would 
 try "jest once mo';" and after a prelude of tuning 
 up would swing into "Money Musk," and other 
 old-time melodies, his aged body swaying in 
 unison with the tune, while his "misery foot" 
 kept time on the bare floor. 
 
 He eventually became a town charge, and was 
 213 
 
FISHING WITH A BOY 
 
 totally blind long before death finally came. 
 In the autumn preceding his death the writer, 
 learning where he was, called to see him where 
 he was being boarded. He was pitifully ema- 
 ciated, and as before stated, totally blind; but 
 his mentahty was not in the least impaired, and 
 he at that time dwelt on many of the incidents 
 related in this sketch. He was buried from a 
 house not more than a mile from where this is 
 being written, and stoutly maintained that he 
 was one hundred and seven years of age. His 
 daughter Hannah, however, who had a generous 
 education and had kept careful watch over the 
 old man's destinies, gave his age at one hundred 
 and three years. 
 
 214 
 
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