258 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



I took his coat-tail in my palm and checked the fish. 

 When it was safe in the boat Frank drew a long breath 

 and said: "Well, I'll be durned if that fish won't weigh 

 twenty pounds. If you hadn't helped me he would have 

 broken something, or I would have been pulled over- 

 board. Yes, by jing! He'll weigh twenty-five pounds." 



My own estimate was that the pike might weigh about 

 ten pounds, but what was the use of putting a damper on 

 the boy's enthusiasm? My new mode of skittering a 

 minnow on the surface had won; his skepticism had van- 

 ished, and it was a triumph for both. We went ashore, 

 rolled a log down to the water, and dug out a basin 

 behind it, where our fish could be kept alive, their splash- 

 ings in the water serving to circulate it through the small 

 openings at each end of the log; for we didn't want to 

 kill our game until we started for home. 



The day was a fine one, and the fishing was fair for 

 those days; it would be called excellent, grand, to-day, 

 and considering the high state of the river we did well. 

 The bend where we fished was comparatively still water, 

 just the place for pike, which prefer quiet nooks and 

 ponds and avoid the quick waters. The geese had 

 passed north, and so had the great bodies of swans and 

 pelicans; but to our surprise a small flock of sandhill 

 cranes went over us, high in the air and glistening in the 

 sun. Most likely the last flock of the season. Frank 

 called attention to them and wondered what they were. 



"Sandhill cranes," said Henry. 



Frank grinned and replied: "I never saw such a fel- 

 low to know everything as Henry is. That flock of birds 

 are too high up to see their shape, and he'll tell you just 

 what they are. He thinks he can play anything on me. 

 What do you think they are?" 



"Just as Henry named them. Henry is more of a 



