JANUARY, 1920 
FOREST AND STREAM 
23 
space of time. Mr. Woodhull watched 
with keen interest as eel after eel was 
cleaned. When all was done the lad took 
all the larger skins and after pulling 
them out straight laid them on the 
cleaned fish, saying as he did so: “When 
they’re dry they’re the toughest thing in 
creation an’ somebody’s alius wantin’ ’em. 
I can get two cents for ’em, sometimes 
three, when they are long. They parted 
at the bridge, Mr. Woodhull accepting a 
small portion of the eels, as he said he 
was very fond of them when fried. Matt 
carefully avoided the creek bank as well 
as all dark places for he knew his enemy 
would* lay for him somewhere, sometime, 
and he was taking no chances. He knew 
that he had no show if Southard once got 
him in his grip, being so much larger and 
stronger, but he was more than a match 
for him in a race. 
T HE following morning Matt was at 
the store after disposing of his eels. 
Mr. Madge the storekeeper asked him 
if he had seen Southard lately. 
“Not since I met him in the 
wheelwright shop,” returned 
Matt with a grin. Mr. Madge 
laughed heartily and said: “He’s 
out back of the store now get- 
ting some barrels and will be in 
soon. You hide in the closet 
there — you ought to see his 
head.” Matt did as directed 
and had the fun, a few minutes 
later, of getting a look at the 
shaven head of his foe which, 
as Mr. Madge had said, “was as 
bare as a pumpkin.” As South- 
ard went out Matt came from 
his hiding place, slapping his 
leg as was his custom when 
highly amused. “Looks like 
somethin’ happened to him,” he 
said. “Gosh, s’pose he’d a 
knowed I was there grinnin’ at 
him.” 
Th next ten days were busy 
ones for Matt. Mr. Woodhull 
had gone on a visit to his wife 
and child while Mr. Adams was 
away on a business trip and the 
lad had busied himself with his 
frog enterprise. Mr. Woodhull 
had given him the address of the 
house where he might dispose of such 
as he might get and had written 
for him that he would send some 
on within a short time. Left to his own 
resources entirely he had constructed a 
net from the balance of his fly net as 
he knew he would need something of the 
kind to make the capture easy. He had 
lashed it to a birch with forked branches 
much the same as the landing-net but 
much lighter and about 10 feet long. A 
pen to keep them alive in at the well 
drain was constructed and all was about 
ready for his first endeavor. Aunt Mary 
was skeptical and very much inclined to 
view the whole proceedings with distrust. 
That frogs would bring real money was 
to her a doubtful statement, being in- 
clined, like so many others to view likes 
and dislikes through her own glasses. 
“You’re wastin’ of your time,” she said, 
as Matt was preparing to start on his 
first trip. “You may get frogs, but you 
ain’t seen nor likely to, any money for 
’em.” Matt said nothing but went on 
with net in hand and the much used 
coarse bag under his arm. One thing 
he did not say a thing about was the fact 
that he had secured a red rag and one 
of his fish lines was in his pocket. He 
had filed the barb from the hook and had 
in mind that where one plan failed the 
other might succeed. There were acres 
of marshes along the streams and he was 
soon busy plying his net. With the long 
handle he could reach over the rushes 
and other impediments and by working 
the net to the side of the frog, would not 
arouse its suspicion that it was in danger 
until a quick flop over, then with a twist 
of the frame the frog was hopelessly en- 
meshed. The slender brown frogs he did 
not take in as they were not the kind 
used ; only the large green back ones 
were wanted. Many places where his 
view, was obstructed and he had reason 
to believe they were sitting he would 
swing the red rag and hook back and 
The mill gate on the Manasquan River 
forth and many large ones were taken in 
that way. As the barb was filed from 
the hook they were not injured in the 
least in being unhooked, and, as Matt 
said, “they looked funny cornin’ in with 
their heads in their hands.” Matt kept 
the frogging trips up for three days and 
having his pen pretty well filled decided 
to dress and ship them. Mr. Woodhull 
had told him just how they should be 
prepared and he was busy the better 
part of one day in the work, cutting them 
just as he had been told and tying them 
in bunches. He got a quantity of clean 
moss from the meadow and packed it 
around them carefully, then a wet cloth 
over all. A neighbor, who he had found 
out, was going to the town, three miles 
distant, kindly sent them by express and 
the matter was concluded, save sending 
a letter which Mr. Madge had kindly 
helped him with, telling the city house 
he had shipped them. “Now that they’re 
gone, how much’ll I get in money?” he 
asked his aunt at the supper table, “le’s 
guess.” Aunt Mary snorted. “You’ll 
’bout get the trouble you’ve had,” she re- 
turned, “an’ somebody’ll send us a bill 
for express. I ain’t got no faith in frogs 
nor much in anybody what’ll eat ’em.” 
“Well, I’ll guess five dollars,” he said, 
“might’s well say that as anything.” 
“Five dollars for a little starch box of 
frogs!” said his aunt, “Might’s well say 
ten and be done with it. The sooner fool 
notions is out of your head the better for 
us both, Matt Buckley.” 
S EVERAL days went by, Mr. Woodhull 
had returned, and they had again 
gone perch fishing but nothing had 
been heard from the shipment of frogs. 
He assured Matt it was all right and that 
they would surely bring him something. 
The local mail was left each day at the 
store, and the day following the conversa- 
tion with Mr. Woodhull, Matt was in the 
store when Mr. Madge, going behind the 
counter, said: “Here’s a letter for you, 
Matt, getting a little like a 
business man, ain’t you?” Matt 
put the letter in his pocket, not 
caring to open it there as he had 
told no <5ne about his frog enter- 
prise, so ifs nothing came of it 
nobody would be wiser if he 
could help it. “Well, the letter’s 
come,” he said, as he walked in 
the house, “an’ I ain’t opened it 
yet. Le’s guess,” he teased his 
Aunt. “Well,” she said, “If I 
guess it will be two dollars.” 
“I’ll stick to my five,” he said 
doggedly, and tore open the 
envelope. He gazed at the check 
without saying a word for more 
than a minute, then, slapping 
his leg he fairly yelled: “They 
brought me twelve dollars, them 
frogs!” “ ’Tain’t no sech 
thing,” said his aunt, “I don’t 
believe it.” Then, pulling her 
glasses down from the top of 
her head, she read the check for 
herself, with the comment: 
“Matt Buckley, you ain’t a fool 
all the time, air ye?” Here was 
more money than the boy had 
ever been possessed of at any 
time in his life and to his Aunt it 
was a large sum. The boy was re- 
clining on one elbow on the porch 
floor buried in thought. He was busy 
dreaming the long dreams of youth. 
Gradually they grew into a stimulating 
picture of the long career that stretched 
ahead of him. The gates to success had 
at last been opened. Frogs were 
plentiful all over the marshes. Four 
days’ work had brought him twelve 
dollars ; as much money as he could prob- 
ably make the entire season picking the 
wild berries in the woods and then finding 
sale for them. With the glowing 
thought of pride that he felt in his 
triumph there came the realization of 
what it must mean to his Aunt now that 
he had found means of lessening the 
problem of living. “Matt,” said Aunt 
Mary, as she came out with a happy 
smile and took a chair near him, “we 
didn’t do so bad with our frogs, did we?” 
