and my son followed dragging his bait bucket through 

 the water by a string. As I proceeded I cast my 

 bait ahead, and at every throw nearly it would be 

 jumped at by the bass that lay hidden behind the 

 ledges of the rocks. It was only necessary to cast 

 eight or nine yards of line right, left and to the 

 center. As the bass were reeled in they were run 

 onto the stringer which soon became burdensome for 

 my son to carry and I was compelled to relieve him. 

 One end I fastened to the ring in my belt while the 

 bunch of pretty creatures would swim around in my 

 wake. So ravenous and vicious did the fish become 

 that I captured as many as three on a single bait. 

 My son laughed and halloed until the mountain 

 chain fairly echoed with his delight. After landing 

 nine bass, I proceeded to instruct my son as we 

 retraced our trip down the stream. The strikes were 

 less frequent of course, but we picked up one now 

 and then in pools which we had missed on our upward 

 trip. Relieving my son of the bait bucket, I cautioned 

 him to place his thumb on the reel so as to gauge the 

 play of line, and casting with two hands he was 

 enabled to add to our already heavy string. It was a 

 pleasure to instruct him. "Give your line a slight 

 jerk. Now you have him. Let him play. Keep 

 your line taught. Reel it slowly. Be careful. Raise 

 your rod so as to keep the line tight. Reel again, 

 Rod up a little. Now I'll get him." These were some 

 of the directions. Then reaching down I would get 

 the fish between the gills and mouth with thumb and 

 forefinger, dislodge the hook and string it. Said I to 

 my son, "We have taken a big catch, let us not be 

 hoggish. A man should not continue to fish when he 

 has enough. There is reason in all things." Tired 



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