Tragic Fishing Moments 



must have even penetrated to the happy realm where 

 Izaak Walton abides. At times I heard ten pounds 

 and bass mentioned. A boy can hardly be expected 

 to appreciate oratory or to be interested in the subject 

 of bass with thoughts of annihilation staring him in 

 the face. For the first time since our loss he suddenly 

 realized my presence. 



" You ," but this is a fishing story and not a 



lesson in improper English. I was too scared to feel 

 any resentment. After calm reflection I forgave him, 

 for I made allowances for his terrible mental distress. 



" Why, that bass was as big as mine," he hurled at 

 me. Pause here, boys, while you get out your pocket 

 dictionaries. While you are looking up the word 

 " Tragic," picture a boy estimating the distance from 

 a row-boat to a shore lined with friendly woods. I 

 surely did thank the Lord for a dad who taught me 

 how to swim when young. I thanked the Lord for 

 the senator who first put the ban on side arms; how- 

 ever that's the only time I ever agreed with his 

 views. 



With a dive I went over the side of the boat. When 

 I came to the surface my pal was lifting his right ear 

 from the bottom of the boat. This last detail is very 

 clear to me because he was headed south, facing the 

 east, while I was swimming west. Just as I reached 

 shore he stood up. He afterward confided to me he 

 thought I had gone crazy. It did not take long to 



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