WILD PASTURES 



gles these fins of dagger-bone and 

 makes a peculiar grumbling sound with 

 them. It is as if he said, "What! 

 what! What's all this? Who dares 

 disturb my comfort?" Then when you 

 reach to take him off the hook he flips 

 that nimble black tail of his and jabs his 

 dagger into your hand. It makes an ugly 

 wound, and the boys claim that it con- 

 ceals venom; a sort of poisoned dag- 

 ger. The horn-pout bobs your float- 

 ing cork usually twice or three times, a 

 very different bob from either that of 

 the sunfish or the yellow perch. It is a 

 steady, solid down pull each time, tak- 

 ing the cork half under water. Then he 

 takes hold in earnest, and the float goes 

 steadily down and out, as if this were a 

 matter of no child's play, but meaning 

 something that is solid and substantial 

 on the other end of the line. Often- 

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