i86 



RECREA TION. 



know where that good spot was, in which 

 he before cast his line at night. We were 

 out for fishing and did not care much where 

 we found it. The whole upper Potomac, 

 above Georgetown, is fishing ground, and 

 when fish are biting, good-sized fellows 

 can be landed from any of the holes along 

 the banks. 



After much knocking about in the dark, 

 we at last settled on the Virginia shore, 

 near the chain bridge. The night had 

 grown cold and we were anything but com- 

 fortable. We threw the blankets over our 

 shoulders and waited for bites that did not 

 come. Opinions of Chic, and his ideas of 

 sport were expressed, and after a half-hour 

 in this spot camp was moved. 



To warm up the situation, and with the 

 idea a fire might attract the fish, we gath- 

 ered dry twigs, and started a blaze. Still 

 no fish, but something else was attracted 

 by the fire. Within 10 minutes, the river 

 and woods seemed to sprout men. At least 

 a dozen came straggling up to the fire, one 

 by one, to know the reason of the blaze. 

 Their curiosity excited ours. Where had 

 they come from and what were they doing? 

 Will whispered into my ear, " Herring 

 poachers. They take us for constables — 

 let 'em think so." 



Several of the visitors asked questions, 

 as to our purpose. Where were we from 

 and where going? One man, who came in 

 a skiff, was particularly anxious to find out 

 something about us. Acting on Will's sug- 

 gestion, we let him think we were deputy 

 sheriffs looking for herring thieves. 



" Have you seen any to-night? " was 

 asked of the skiff man. 



" Ain't seen none 'tall t'-night," he re- 

 plied. " Don't believe trier's goin' t' be 

 any round; though they most allers can 

 be found right yer at this time o' night. 

 Reckon they must o' thought you fellers 

 was a-comin' and done give th' slip. 

 They's purty sly." The old rascal was 

 right. They were a sly set and he was 

 probably one of the slyest. His uneasiness 

 at having officers near, however, was poor- 

 ly concealed under his bluff. 



We were glad he had come out of the 

 woods, for anything was a diversion, when 

 the bass would not notice the minnows 

 squirming on our hooks. I went to ex- 

 amine the lines, which had been left out 

 during the visit of the prowlers, and found 

 2 perch on the outside of as many min- 

 nows. Going back to the fire, I noticed 

 Will examining a revolver, which he put 

 into his pocket. 



"What's that for?" I asked. 



" There's going to be trouble to-night. 

 If we stay here those fellows will be so 

 hopping mad at losing a night's catch, 

 they'll be up to any kind of mischief. If we 

 leave at this stage of the game, they'll be 



so suspicious they'll give us trouble any- 

 way. That last fellow had mischief in his 

 eye." 



It was rather uncomfortable on the 

 rocks, with a bright fire to show us in bold 

 relief against the darkness surrounding us, 

 in which were concealed at least 10 men 

 who made their livings by violation of the 

 laws they thought we were there to defend. 

 The whole blackness seemed pierced with 

 eyes. 



We continued to watch the lines and to 

 grumble at our luck. Nothing but perch 

 came our way, and they were hardly larger 

 than the bait they swallowed. Chic de- 

 clared this was not the spot he started out 

 to find, for there the buckets would have 

 been filled with bass. " And no poachers," 

 I murmured. 



As the morning wore on, nothing was 

 seen of the men, but Will remained against 

 the rock, where he posted himself after 

 placing the revolver in his pocket. I was 

 about to suggest getting ready to move by 

 daylight, when we were startled by the re- 

 port of a pistol-shot. It seemed to have 

 come from above. I looked toward the 

 bridge and instantly heard a rapid succes- 

 sion of shots. By the flashes I saw a hack 

 crossing the bridge. The shots were being 

 fired by a drunken man, who had more 

 pistols than the law allowed. I was about 

 to rise from behind a rock, where I had in- 

 stinctivelly jumped, when the firing rang 

 out again. At the same time I was startled 

 by 2 reports behind me, and as I turned 

 and ran to Will, a curse, followed by the 

 splashing of paddles in the water, told that 

 somebody had been hurt and was moving 

 off. 



"What's the matter, Will?" I excitedly 

 shouted. "Who's hurt?" 



" Both of us," and he held up his right 

 arm, from which the blood was flowing. 



Chic was with us instantly. Seizing the 

 revolver he emptied the remaining cham- 

 bers down the river, in the direction he 

 supposed the departing poacher had taken. 

 A derisive yell came across the water. Our 

 inquisitive visitor had safely crossed the 

 river; how badly he was hurt, we never 

 discovered. 



We turned our attention to Will. Not 

 much harm was done. The bullet had 

 passed through the fleshy part of his arm, 

 just beneath the elbow. The affair put a 

 dampener on our already disappointing 

 night's experience, and preparations were 

 at once made for moving. A milk-wagon 

 carried us home, where we arrived tired 

 and disgusted, determined never again to 

 fish after nightfall, unless there should be 

 a house at hand, where rest and warmth 

 could be had, and where poachers and men 

 on drunken orgies could not interfere with 

 or frighten us. 



