52 Union Bay 



the struggle, the memories of the many trips to the favorite 

 fishing spot made them decide to return even though the 

 advancing Germans were close to the stream. They reached 

 the place, fished with great success, but were picked up by 

 an advance guard and taken to headquarters. The German 

 officer who questioned them was not convinced that the 

 men had come for fishing, and he ordered them to be exe- 

 cuted as spies. They were shot almost immediately, after 

 which the fish were turned over to the German cook to be 

 prepared for the evening meal. Perhaps some enthusiasts 

 would say that it was not too exorbitant a price for a perfect 

 day of fishing. 



The first part of the day's trip took me along the canal just 

 back of the stadium, a place much frequented by boys be- 

 cause it was easily reached by bicycle or foot. I paddled 

 easily, looking at the knee-high stumps of the trees which 

 had been removed by beavers, watching the water run down 

 my paddles to form little rings as the drops struck the placid 

 water, listening to the song of the russet-hacked thrush in 

 the deep undergrowth. The fresh scent of the cottonwoods 

 was as unmistakable as the odor of lavender when a bureau 

 drawer is opened. Then I saw a bareheaded boy of about ten 

 coming slowly down the slope from the golf course, picking 

 his way so that his legs would not be scratched by blackberry 

 vines. He crossed the road, looked around as he stood on the 

 canal bank, and uttered a cry that made me force my canoe 

 to the place where he was standing. 



"What's up?" I called. "Hurt yourself?" 



"The pole," he cried. "My father's fishpole." 



"What about it?" 



"It's gone. My dad's pole. I stuck it on a stick on the bank 

 and went up to watch them play golf. It cost twelve dollars 

 and forty cents and now it's gone, all of it." The tears flowed 

 freely. 



"Perhaps a fish pulled it into the water." 



