With and Against the Grains 27 



and comfortable until I reached the mouth of the 

 creek. Here I found the outrunning water per- 

 fectly clear, the clean current extending for a couple 

 of yards into the roily river. It was a capital place 

 to watch for fish, and as I had time to spare I con- 

 cluded to bide a wee. 



Out of spearing distance in the river, fish were 

 running famously. The quick strikes of the pike 

 rippled the gliding surface continuously, and now 

 and then the reddish fin or caudal of a mullet 

 showed where some big fellow was struggling 

 against the powerful, discolored current. In time 

 a red tail waggled for a second within reach, and I 

 drove the grains into the water a couple of feet 

 ahead of where the tail had disappeared. A grind- 

 ing jar told that the points had struck a fish well 

 forward, and as the shaft whirled round with the 

 flood, I pulled it back and landed a heavy mullet. 



The writhing eddy just below the confluence of 

 the two currents seemed to entice many wearied 

 fish, and every few moments I'd catch a glimpse of 

 a fin or tail. But the stream was far too muddy 

 for sure work, and many a " water jab " resulted. 

 Once in about five thrusts the points would touch 

 a fish, and at longer intervals victims were secured. 

 It was quick and interesting work, and supper-time 

 rolled round before I had given a thought to the 

 venomous Old Party with the scythe. I had killed 

 four good fish and a couple of worthless suckers 

 when I realized that farmers' wives invariably make 

 fussy preparations for "town fellers," and that de- 

 cency demanded that I should make an effort to be 

 on time. 



