118 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



drift-wood, and then you'll know whether we use fence 

 rails or not." 



"Yes," chipped in John Atwood, "and you can hook 

 the potatoes, too, if you want 'em. We never trouble the 

 farmers and they don't trouble us. We take our grub 

 along and just cook a few fish." 



Billy Atwood, a boy who seldom said anything, re- 

 marked: "Mat might go and milk some of Rivenburg's 

 cows if he wants to eat his fish in milk," a reference to a 

 man who was said to have tried this dish on recommenda- 

 tion of one Harleigh Mather, whose humor lay in such 

 things. This man was known as "Suckers and Milk" un- 

 til life became a burden to him and he moved away. This 

 same irreverent joker in after years replied to a clergy- 

 man who wished to know how to cook frogs: "Oh, we 

 stew them just as we do bats." I do not approve of this 

 sort of thing except when I do it myself. 



Rivenburg's barn was only used to store hay in until 

 it could be pressed into bales and sent off, therefore it was 

 empty most of the year, but there was always enough 

 loose hay left to sleep in. It was one of the finest barns 

 you ever saw, for ventilation. The doors were off the 

 hinges and were propped up by poles. We did not dis- 

 turb them, but walked in from whichever side was con- 

 venient. The double doors were, if I remember, a trifle 

 larger than the other holes. 



John Atwood had brought the worms for bait in some 

 old mustard boxes, and we assured Mat that they were 

 not brought in the coffee-pot because that had been kept 

 hidden in the barn as part of our permanent outfit, along 

 with the frying-pan and tin cups. Hot coffee, fried 

 sausages and other things saw us comfortably fed by sun- 

 down. Great clouds came up and the wind shook the 

 barn and we hurried to the tightest corner as the storm 



