The "Goods" in Spite of a Ducking 



Hugh is just beginning, but he has all the earmarks 

 of the real thing. I have been fishing ever since I 

 was knee high to a grasshopper, but only in the past 

 two or three years have I become a devotee of the plug. 



When we reached our fishing point, it was decided 

 that the Doctor and Hugh would fish from one boat 

 and I was to go it alone. We had quite a discussion 

 as to which boat would land the most fish, but some- 

 how I had a hunch that I had an even chance, and so 

 accepted the challenge. 



When we ate our lunch at the head of an island, 

 honors were even, but they both assured me that they 

 had just been taking it easy, and that I had no more 

 chance than a rabbit to win, for they were going to 

 do some real fishing that afternoon. 



As we pushed out from shore the Doctor cautioned 

 me to be at the landing place promptly at four o'clock 

 because he had an engagement in the office at six, and 

 if I was not there the walking was good, and it was 

 only twenty-seven miles back home. 



The fish were not striking, and it looked as though 

 we were out of luck. Then about three o'clock they 

 began to show some interest. I took several nice ones, 

 and instead of killing them like a good sport should, 

 I threw them in the bottom of the boat. The boat 

 leaked like a sieve and had about three inches of water, 

 most of it just where I was sitting. The fish splashed 

 around considerable and gave me a shower bath every 



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