BILLY BISHOP. 21 



of Billy and rivals in doing odd jobs about Isaac Fryer's 

 tavern when thirsty and time was plenty. The weight of 

 evidence was convincing. These things happened in 

 1841, the date being fixed by the death of President Har- 

 rison and the fact that Billy said: "Ef I'd 'a' knowed he 

 was a-goin' to die so soon I'd never 'a' woted fur him." 



At this time Billy may have been forty years old, may 

 have been sixty ; it was all the same thing to me he was 

 old. All men over thirty were old, and ten to thirty years 

 more made no difference. 



"Ef you got a lantern I want to borry it to-night to 

 get some worms outen yer garden," said Billy; and it was 

 a revelation to me to see him pick up a quart of big 

 "night walkers" in a short time. 



"What are you going to do with the big worms, 

 Billy?" 



"Bobbin' fer eels; don't yer want to go, to-morrer 

 night?" 



"Yes, if mother will let me; come around till I ask 

 her." 



"Well," said mother, "he may go with you, Mr. 

 Bishop, if you will take care that he doesn't fall overboard 

 and you don't keep him out too late at night." 



"All right, ma'am; we can't stay late, because I'm only 

 goin' here in the crik beginnin' about sundown, and eels 

 don't bite at a bob much a'ter ten o'clock, nur, fur that 

 matter, much a'ter nine. I'll take keer of him all right, 

 an' mebbe I'll have some eels to skin fur yer bre'kfas', 

 ma'am." 



The worms had been put in a keg with plenty of earth 

 and set in a cool place. I was home from school early in 

 the afternoon, for the mystery of bobbing for eels was to 

 be unfolded to me by a master of the art. Billy was on 

 hand an hour before sundown, and getting a few yards 



