104 OLD BLACK BASS 



presence of other life in the vicinity. Faint 

 shocks, vague stirrings of the water, slight 

 wavelets on the distant surface all informed 

 them that the proposed spot was already 

 occupied. 



They drew nearer; then saw. The 

 pickerel were there. Long they were and 

 pale. Where the bass were short and dark 

 and thick, the pickerel were very light, 

 almost white, and their bodies were long 

 and slender. Their heads were pointed and 

 shapely, fins of silken softness, and their 

 movements lithe and graceful as the ges- 

 tures of exquisite dancers. 



As Old Black Bass led his school up to 

 them the pickerel ceased movement. Two 

 families of the Pisces faced each other in 

 the quiet waters of Lone Pine. Two groups 

 of implacable foes, for between the bass and 

 the pickerel is ancient enmity; a great 

 hatred that abates not, neither is forgotten. 

 And whenever they meet is war. 



But even the eye of hate may not be too 

 blind, nor could it fail to concede a certain 

 respect for the pale giants. They were 

 lords. They were fighters as fierce and 

 bold as the bass. They feared nothing save 



