Little Bob's First Bass 



thread, small hook, and a float made of a large cork 

 suspended from his dad's lancewood pole. 



All was quiet along the Wabash for the space of 

 half an hour, the Biblical limit for a woman to keep 

 quiet, when we suddenly discovered that Bob was 

 busy, very busy in fact. For before we could get to 

 him he had raised a bass, a real bass, out of the 

 water and had him dangling in the air. Now all of 

 you hardened sinners must not believe that the fish has 

 to get away to make a tragedy of the affair not in 

 the least. In another moment Bob had swung the 

 pole in my direction and the fish was safely in the 

 boat. 



But some unregenerate legislators in Indiana had 

 made and provided a statute to the purpose and effect 

 that a fish of this particular breed must attain a length 

 of ten inches in order to be considered legitimate treas- 

 ure trove, and this " little whale/* to use Bob's ex- 

 pression for it, could only muster a paltry seven. 

 Tragedy f You who have seen your five to seven- 

 pounder vanish in the swirling water, taking with him 

 your best fly, have no common measure of despair and 

 grief with the youngster who, by reason of a law, 

 recognizing no difference in attendant circumstances, 

 must see his first bass, caught with his own hands, 

 disappear over the side of the canoe. 



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