Bass or Business? 



Bill looked at me. As I contemplated his attitude 

 and studied his features in the pale light of the new 

 moon, I could not definitely determine whether he 

 was registering consuming sorrow or dangerous 

 wrath. Anyhow, Bill was looking me right in the' 

 eye, just as if he meant something, or otherwise. A 

 profound, oppressive, thick, suggestive, ominous si- 

 lence ensued. At length Bill gasped out in thick, 

 unnatural tones : " What in h 1 do you want to go 

 to Hagerstown for when the bass are rising?" 



In the light of so complete a summing up of the 

 whole issue of the case in one terse and singularly 

 comprehensive question, I remained discreetly silent. 

 In awed contemplation of this tragic moment I was 

 obliged to admit to myself that heretofore I had failed 

 to do full justice to Bill's reasoning powers. It was 

 my mistake; but it was an error of the head, not of 

 the heart. 



I was a sound sleeper in those days I really mean 

 nights. As I recall my mental condition and moral 

 attitude in that long gone period of my life, my con- 

 science was then clear and untroubled. I can't recall 

 that I ever, with wrongful intent at least, exagger- 

 ated, even to my trusting wife, the weight or length of 

 the fish I caught or the one that got away. 



Ah me! I am more than a decade past the half- 

 century mark now, and my conscience well, well, 

 let me change the current of my thoughts. Bill's ques- 



65 



