56 Bass, Pike, and Perch 



A dozen "red-eyes," gleaming with green and 

 gold, on the string of the boy angler, is something 

 to be proud of. He gazes with fond admiration 

 on the wide-open crimson eyes, which to him 

 seem more precious than rubies. He admires the 

 bristling fins, the gracefully sloping sides, the 

 gaping mouth and forked tail, with boyish enthu- 

 siasm and appreciation. Although hot and tired, 

 and with many a scratch and bruise on hands 

 and feet, such trifles are lighter than air, and do 

 not admit of a moment's consideration. Seated 

 on a rock at the margin of the stream, with the 

 string of fish in the water, he feasts his eyes on 

 the finny beauties with the conscious pride of 

 well-earned success and the happy culmination 

 of his outing. In imagination the battles are all 

 fought over and over again. He knows just 

 where and under what condition and circum- 

 stance each fish was caught, as, with bare toes, 

 he separates and indicates the individual on the 

 string. That largest one was hooked under the 

 dam beside the big rock. The next in size was 

 taken among the roots of the old sycamore at 

 the bend of the creek. Another and still another 

 from the deep hole under the rocky cliff. Oh, the 

 joyous days of youth and going a-fishing in the 



