232 



RECREATION 



with the liveliest minnow, and cast out in 

 the deep, still water, 40 or 50 feet from 

 shore. The little fish was uneasy from the 

 start, and dashed about, dragging the line 

 in all directions. Nor were its fears un- 

 founded, for in a few moments Mose saw 

 the line move away in the direction ©f 

 Manchuria. After waiting a moment, to al- 

 low the bait to be swallowed, Mose struck, 

 and immediately the reel began its sweet 

 little song — zee-zee-zee. It kept on repeat- 

 ing, and the stock of -surplus line was 

 steadily diminishing, although Mose was 

 straining his tackle to the danger limit. 

 Grabbing the paddle in one hand, Mose 

 pushed the boat off from shore, and shut- 

 ting down on the reel, let the invisible 

 monster expend some of his energy in tow- 

 ing the light craft around. This evidently 

 made the fish mad, for he stopped and went 

 to the bottom in a sulk. Taking advantage 

 of this lull in the fight, Mose reeled in line 

 until the boat was almost over the fish, and 

 then applying a steady upward strain, he 

 endeavored to force the fighting, but the 

 weight at the end of the line appeared im- 

 movable, and Mose had about concluded 

 the fish had fouled on a sunken log, when 

 the creature suddenly got busy again. Then 

 another irresistible rush, only this time, 

 having the boat to contend with from the 

 start, not so much line was lost as before. 

 Again the fish sulked, and as Mose recov- 

 ered his line he talked thusly to himself: 



''It moves too slowly for a bass ; it must 

 be a catfish 4 feet long." 



Again and again was the performance re- 

 peated, until excitement gave way to fa- 

 tigue, and when 15 or 20 minutes had passed 

 without getting the creature near enough 

 to the surface to see, Mose began to get 

 uneasy. 



"Suppose," he soliloquized, "I am fast to 

 a big alligator, which is unlikely ; yet what 

 else can it be? If I crowd him too much, 

 he's liable to board the boat and take 

 charge. I believe dry land is the best after 

 all." 



So, running ashore again, he commenced 

 the fight afresh, from the bank, and at 

 length was pleased to note a gradual weak- 

 ening of the resistance. Pleased, indeed, 

 was Mose, for his arms were becoming very 

 tired. 



At last the victim was drawn gasping to 

 the surface, a catfish of perhaps 25 pounds 

 weight. Mose was disappointed. He 

 had expected one of 40 pounds at least, 

 after such a desperate fight. Several times 

 he led the fish to the bank, and endeavored 

 to insert his finger in the gills, but each 

 time his touch would instil new life into 

 the cat, which apparently had the 9 lives of 

 its dry-land namesake, and it would rush 

 off again into deep water, and the pei- 

 formance would have to be repeated. 



"Darn it all," said Mose. "I wish Uncle 

 Snap was here to give us a hand." But 

 U. S. was far away, skinning coons. 



Tiring at last of this, Mose got his 25 

 caliber rifle out of the boat with one hand, 

 meanwhile keeping a steady strain on the 

 rod with the other. Then putting as much 

 stress on the little 4-0 hook and its gut 

 leader as he dared, he got the big fish next 

 the bank, and after some difficulty succeed- 

 ed in putting a bullet in the back of its 

 head. After that he had no trouble in 

 dragging the prize ashore, where, after con- 

 templating it for some moments, he loaded 

 it into the boat and set out for camp, 

 with a fish story to tell U. S. and the proof 

 to show. 



U. S. looked at the big cat, and then at 

 the little Bristol rod, and marveled greatly. 

 Uncle Snap used to be a" believer in the 

 stout cane pole, and tackle strong enough 

 to throw any fish that came along, over his 

 head ; but he was rapidly becoming con- 

 verted by the little steel buzzy whip, as he 

 called it. 



They cut the meat off the catfish in 2 long 

 strips, and threw the remains in the river 

 for the benefit of his cannibal brethren. 



"We've got enough fish now to bait our 

 coon traps a month," said U. S., as he hung 

 the strips in the smoke of the camp fire. 



"What are we going to have for supper?'' 

 queried Mose, after he had rested a while. 



"There's nothing fresh but the catfish, 

 and I'm ag'in catfish." 



At this moment some sandhill cranes 

 began to whoop in a small prairie across 

 the river. 



"Whooping cranes, I reckon," said U. S., 

 gathering the gun and starting for the boat. 

 Mose followed with his trusty rifle, and 

 landing on the opposite side of the river, 

 they cautiously approached the noisy birds. 

 There were 5 great cranes feeding on the 

 flat, but out of shot gun range from any 

 cover, so U. S. concealed himself behind 

 the nearest bunch of palmetto, while Mose 

 slipped around on the opposite side of the 

 prairie, and getting a rest for his rifle on a 

 tree, he screwed his eye to a gimlet focus 

 along the sights, for a long range shot. 

 Crack, went the smokeless powder, and one 

 of the largest birds spread his wings, ran a 

 few steps, and fell sprawling in the grass. 



The others took a hop, skip and jump 

 (their almost invariable way of rising), 

 and leaping into the air, flew directly 

 toward Uncle Snap's palmetto bunch, split- 

 ting the air the while with their rattling 

 cackle, loud enough to waken the 7 sleepers 

 of Ephesus and their little dog. Bang ! 

 went the weapon of U. S., and another 

 sandhill came crashing down in a big pal- 

 metto bunch. 



Waiting until Mose came up with his 

 game, U. S. plunged into the palmetto after 



