S68 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



Billy Bishop by this time was beginning to feel very 

 numerous, although Port had tried to keep the punch 

 under his own eye, for Porter was a man who seldom 

 looked upon the wine when it was rosy; but Billy paid no 

 attention to the color of it; the white schnapps of Hol- 

 land was as welcome to Billy as any. He wasn't any- 

 where near being "over his head," but just felt his oats, 

 and wanted to talk. 



"I'll yust tole you 'bout de hell-hole w'at Port had 

 gone by for pa'tridges. John Pulver he always tell 'bout 

 it, an' how spooks set 'round de edge in de dark of de 

 moon an' work all kinds o' harm to people who come 

 by der hole. I was a-choppin' in Glen Van Rensselaer's, 

 when I dinks I co by Mr. Teller's for my ole axe to split 

 de trees, an' it was so warm I lie down by myself to rest, 

 an' I fall asleep by a nice shady place. Wen I wake it 

 was all dark, an* I see a light down in a deep hole, an' 

 den some stumps he roll up f'um der hole an' dey all get 

 me around. Den I knowed dat was de hell-hole w'at 

 John Pulver telled aboud. Was I schared? Veil, you 

 bet you was some schared, too, ven you find yourself in 

 de mittel von some stumps, an' dey all choin hants an* 

 tance you aboud like some chilld'n w'en dey sing 'Ring 

 Arount Rosy/ 



"Pooty soon dey stop, an' one big stump he say, 'Billy 

 Bishop, did you got some schnapps? If you got some, 

 yust put der pottle on my head an' go home/ I find der 

 pottle in my coat, an' I put him on dat stump, an' by 

 Chimminy, dey open der ring an' I nefer stop runnin' till 



