AMOS DECKER. 339 



business of locating the old man in New Jersey is what 

 bothers me, and it bothers him. How did you do it?'* 



"If I tell you will you keep it?" 



"Betcher! Wouldn't tell him, but it's workin' on the 

 old man an' it's workin' on me." 



"Well, it's all based on a word. He called a little bait 

 fish a 'killy,' and that name is one left by the Dutch set- 

 tlers along the salt waters of New York and New Jersey, 

 and is used in no other part of the country. You noticed 

 that I guessed New York first, but corrected it on the 

 second guessing." 



Amos had turned his back to put some wood on the 

 fire, and I carelessly opened a book on a shelf and saw his 

 name in it. Quickly closing it, I resumed conversation, 

 and afterward laboriously spelled out his name from 

 the lines in his hand. 



"Stranger," said he, slowly, "you ar' suttenly a gifted 

 man. To look at yer no one would ever mistrust it, but 

 I've read about how these things could be done, but 

 never put no faith in it; but now I'm convinced. 

 Stranger, put it thar!" 



"Amos," said I, "I'm a greenhorn from the East, but 

 I object to being called 'stranger' by every stranger that 

 I meet. I'm no more a stranger to a man I never saw 

 before than he is to me, and I won't stand it. If you'll 

 drop that word we'll be friends and go a-fishing. What 

 d'ye say?" 



Warren had caught some minnows in a little stream, 

 and we went down to the edge of the river to fish with 

 some heavy pecan poles, which our host pronounced 

 "pecawn;" this is a species of hickory which bears the 

 nut of commerce and is very strong and elastic, but 

 heavy. The water appeared to be so muddy that there 

 seemed but little chance of a fish seeing our bait, but we 



