300 
FOREST AND S T R E A M 
June, 1920 
FISHING FOR CARP AND CRAPPIES 
THE EIGHTH INSTALMENT OF A SERIES OF STORIES DEPICTING THE 
SIMPLE JOY OF FISHING AS EXEMPLIFIED THROUGH THE EYES OF YOUTH 
By LEONARD HUL1T, Associate Editor of FOREST AND STREAM 
( < r TP HERE’S no mortal sense in tollin’ 
boys off to go fishin’,” said Aunt 
Mary one morning, some weeks 
after the frogging experience. “Besides 
it takes the time away from gatherin’ 
frogs which is good. I do know what on 
earth they see in eatin’ ’em but they 
don’t seem to let up any in the price.” 
Matt had made several shipments and 
each time the returns had come back sat- 
isfactory, and a letter following one ship- 
ment had assured him that all he could 
secure would be acceptable. Here was a 
new way opening up to earn money, and 
Aunt Mary was provided with more 
funds than she had ever had at one 
time during her widowhood. “Seems 
'ough frogs ain’t so meachin’ mean as 
they one time was,” said Matt, a sugges- 
tion of a smile playing around his mouth. 
“Nothin’ ain’t mean, once you can put it 
to good use,” snapped back his aunt, 
“an’ you needn’t touch me up none about 
it. Seems you’re gittin’ a little peart 
like with your tongue.” “I wasn’t touch- 
in’ of you up,” said Matt; “I was talkin’ 
on the good p’ints of frogs.” This con- 
versation had followed their talk in rela- 
tion to the camping trip proposed by Mr. 
Adams, on which Matt was so hopeful 
of becoming a member of the party. Mr. 
Woodhull had been to the city helping 
his firm out with some emergency work 
and had returned to take 
up once more his upbuild- 
ing vacation. No time had 
as yet been set for the 
trip, only preliminary ar- 
rangements had been 
gone over. 
“I s’pose it can be fixed 
some way so you can go,” 
said Aunt Mary, “but it 
takes a week away from 
your work an’ leaves me 
alone. You make more’n 
you ever did a berryin’.” 
“Frogs lasts all summer 
an’ berries don’t,” said 
the boy; “ ’sides, Mr. 
Adams said he would pay 
me to look up a boat an’ 
get things we’d want. He 
asked me how much I was 
makin’ a week froggin’ 
and’ if he pays me I won’t 
kick none, ’cause I want 
some traps more’n I’ve 
got for mus’ rats this win- 
ter an’ a snappin’ turtle 
hook an’ spear.” “Snap- 
pin’ turtles don’t bother 
us none,” said his aunt, “an’ I don’t see 
what you need to bother ’em for.” “The 
folks what buys my frogs asked Mr. 
Woodhull if I could get ’em some in the 
winter time; said they’d pay me for 
’em.” “You’ll be a sellin’ of. all the 
trash in the brooks, looks like,” she said, 
“but I don’t see how you can get ’em in 
the winter-time.” Matt said nothing but 
went out and, gathering up his frog- 
trappings, went away whistling. 
Mr. Adams was at the house when he 
returned in the evening and wanted him 
to go with him the following day over to 
a pond some miles away. There were 
some carp to be had there, he was told, 
and he wanted to give them a trial. Matt 
knew nothing of these fish and was not 
acquainted with the pond mentioned ; 
while he knew of it he had never been 
to it so he could give no information as 
to its size or depth. They were to drive 
over about noon and Matt was to supply 
worms. Mr. Adams said he would pro- 
vide the other bait himself, not men- 
tioning the kind necessary. “I don’t 
know nothin’ about ’em,” said the boy. 
“What kind of hooks an’ poles shall I 
take?” He was told to take stout poles 
and to bring- along all the hooks he had 
as they might find other fish than carp 
there. “How big are they?” asked the 
lad, interested in anything like fish, and 
particularly those he knew nothing of. 
“Well, there’s little ones and big ones,” 
said Mr. Adams, in a trifle teasing tone. 
“I’ve caught them as heavy as twenty 
pounds. “Not in ponds?” asked Matt, 
looking his surprise. “Yes, I’ve seen 
them larger than that, but I never have 
taken them myself.” “Don’t seems ’ough 
they’d get that big in on’y mill ponds,” 
said Matt. “What else do they bite on 
’sides worms?” “Well,” replied Mr. 
Adams, “I’ve caught them on corn and 
lima beans and — ” “huckleberries an’ 
pun’kins, I ’spose,” broke in Matt, who 
felt that Mr. Adams was poking fun 
at him. Mr. Adams laughed heartily, al- 
ways taking delight in raising Matt’s in- 
credulous ire. Then he continued: “They 
are really a queer fish and have most pe- 
culiar habits in their way of life, but 
like every thing else it meets their ends 
and so they thrive.” “Any other kinds 
of fish other there?” asked the boy in a 
tone of voice which denoted his incre- 
dulity about lima beans and corn as a 
fish bait. “Yes,” said Mr. Adams, “the 
man who owned the place several years 
ago had crappies put in with the carp.” 
‘What’s them?” he was asked in the boy’s 
quick, jerky way. “A much smaller fish 
than the carp but excellent eating and 
good sport in the taking,” replied Mr. 
Adams. “Meet me where Mr. Woodhull 
boards about eleven o’clock 
and we’ll go.” 
T HE lad went for frogs 
early in the morning, 
coming home in good 
time to reach the appoint- 
ed place at eleven o’clock. 
He was talking to Mr. 
Woodhull when Mr. 
Adams drove up in a light 
market wagon. Their 
equipment was soon in 
the wagon. Matt seated 
himself on the bottom 
with his feet swinging 
from the rear while their 
poles extended out back. 
“ ’Spose we’ll get some 
Lima bean fish” he said 
as they started. Mr. 
Adqms nudged the other 
man with his elbow and 
made no reply. Matt no- 
ticed the action and more 
than ever was convinced 
that he was being joked in 
the matter. As they came 
to a cross roads they 
The pond by the old ice house is a good place for carp 
