Tragic Fishing Moments 



all there is to it! I don't blame 'em one bit, either. 

 I have profound respect for the bass up here they 

 have sense, Sherry ! " 



Next morning we were out again. We had rowed 

 some distance. Ben was casting in all directions. I 

 had taken a few lessons in the art the evening before, 

 and was ready for Ben to take the oars any old time. 

 Finally he did. First he had to fill up his old corn- 

 cob pipe. We were between two small islands. Ben 

 started an oration on the beautiful scenery, the salu- 

 brious climate, the opalescent waters no mention 

 was made of fishing or fish. I was feeling a bit sick 

 at heart. Here we were up here in the land of the 

 bass (or the water of the bass), with every known 

 appliance for catching bass and no bass for to 

 catch! I was gazing around while Ben orated. Sud- 

 denly ! 



" Ye very gods, Ben ! Say, for the love o' Mike, 

 gimme my rod up there ! " 



" Give it to you ? Whatcha talking about ? Take 

 it! Whatcha gonna do try to snare one of those 

 sea-gulls flying overhead ? " 



" Sea-gulls be hanged ! Fish, man, fish ! I see a 

 million of 'em out there! " And I did! 



I managed to take my eyes off the water (that is, 

 I took my gaze off the water ; my eyes, though stick- 

 ing out well toward the water, weren't really on the 

 water) and to grab up my rod. Ben had by this time 



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