An Angler at Five 



feet, and more important than all he knows when 

 to spit on his bait, and when, as the catalogues have it, 

 it's of no use so to do, because the lake is " temporarily 

 out of stock." And he has been known to go fishing, 

 and beat the old man to an ignominious frazzle. 



But Jackson Leroy Boughner was once only five, 

 and with no laurels on his brow. Once he had not 

 even caught his first bass. Yet he wanted to fish, and 

 his Dad was going to stick to one deep hole for an 

 hour or so, so there was no reason why the boy 

 shouldn't fish. His Dad cut a six-foot maple gad near 

 the water's edge. There were a few feet of old line 

 in the bottom of the boat, rotten and frayed, but strong 

 enough for perch, and this was tied to the end of the 

 pole. There happened to be a shortage of sinkers, but 

 the piece of perch that was put on the hook was heavy 

 enough to take their place. It was a little too big to 

 attract perch, but the boy's Dad knew it would spend 

 most of its time hanging over an oar, so no great 

 harm could be done. 



But it didn't hang over an oar a minute. ' You 

 want to watch carefully here," said the man to the 

 boy, "because all the fish are whoppers" and no 

 sooner were the words away from his lips than the 

 tip of the maple gad was jerked down under the sur- 

 face of the water. The rod nearly left his hands, but 

 he caught it in time. A moment later a two-pound 

 small-mouth black bass broke water. 



237 



