February, 1921 
FOREST AND STREAM 
67 
TALES THE RIVER TOLD TO MATT 
THE TWELFTH INSTALLMENT OF A SERIES OF STORIES DEPICTING THE SIM- 
PLE JOY OF FISHING AS EXEMPLIFIED THROUGH THE EYES OF YOUTH 
By LEONARD HULIT, Associate Editor of Forest and Stream 
4 i '-p'HAT fish, if fish you call it,” 
I said Mr. Adams, “is one of the 
most destructive enemies of the 
oyster to be found. While it is not 
powerful enough to crush the shells of 
the mature oyster it continuously hunts 
out the smaller ones and destroys them 
in multitudes. It is known as oyster 
fish, toad fish, and by the fishermen and 
boys as Sally Growler, as well as other 
names in different localities. It emits 
a sort of grunting noise, as you notice, 
and is a pest wherever found. Do not 
try to get the hook out as it has swal- 
lowed it completely and it would crush 
your finger if it could get hold of it. 
Cut the line and then put the point of 
the fish knife between its jaws and see 
what happens.” Matt did as directed 
and the instant the knife was felt by 
the creature the jaws came together 
with a snap. The boy raised it from 
the bottom of the boat and swung it 
around still clinging to the knife blade. 
“Gee,” he said, “what a biter.” Its hold 
was only broken when he brought it 
down with a whack on the seat of the 
boat. “Now,” said Mr. Adams, “cut it 
back of the head the same as you do 
an eel, then throw it overboard and 
there will be one pest less in the wa- 
ters.” The boy did as he was told, say- 
ing: “It’s mos’ as ugly as a mud-puppy.” 
Mr. Adams raised the anchor and 
taking the oars said to Matt: “You can 
clean the eels as we go along to camp. 
I want to have supper over before sun- 
down as I wish to make an experiment 
down here before it grows dark.” What 
the nature of the experiment consisted 
of he did not disclose. As usual Mr. 
Woodhull cared for the fire and soon 
had a good one going. The eels were 
carefully cleaned and as soon as a pan 
of water was boiling, Mr. Adams 
dropped them in. He had cut them in 
sections of about four inches and while 
timing the boiling with his watch he 
was beating eggs in a bowl. In just 
three minutes he drained the water off 
and wiped the sections of fish dry with 
a towel, then he dipped them in the 
beaten egg and placed them in the fry- 
ing pan and sprinkled them liberally 
with fine corn meal. “We’ll try a few 
boiled crabs too,” he said, and directed 
Matt to put a kettle of water over the 
fire. He then went down to the boat 
and soon returned with six large crabs, 
carrying them in the net. 
“Gee,” said the lad, “smell them eels 
a fryin’; seems ’ough the’s more good 
things lives in the water than on land.” 
The water in the kettle began boiling 
as the eels and coffee were done and 
Mr. Adams, with the aid of two small 
sticks, lifted one of the crabs and 
dropped it in the boiling water. “Ouch,” 
said Matt in strong sympathy for the 
creature, “that seems a tough dose for 
anything to take.” “Well,” said Mr. 
Adams dryly, “they die instantly, be- 
sides they sort of get used to it,” He 
dropped them in one by one after which 
a liberal portion of salt was added as 
well as pepper in generous quantities. 
Treating them in this manner the meat 
gets seasoned through as it could not 
in any other way. 
Matt stood regarding the whole pro- 
ceedings with a rather gruesome ex- 
pression until he was reminded that the 
eels were waiting for him. Mr. Wood- 
hull had prepared the meal in a neat 
manner, and proved his value in camp 
life in preparing fire as well as food. 
“I wonder what Aunt Mary’ll say when 
I tell her she can’t cook eels like a man 
I know,” said the lad. “I’ll bet she’ll 
be mad an’ tell me somethin’ back, but 
I never tasted any so good as these.” 
Mr. Woodhull said in all his experience 
he had never tasted their equal in fla- 
vor. “There are three things which go 
to make up the combination of excell- 
ence,” said Mr. Adams, “one, because 
the eels were trading down to salt wa- 
ter; that gives them a distinct taste. 
Then the short par-boiling makes them 
as tender as meat can be made. Next, 
frying them in the beaten egg and the 
corn meal until they are done to a 
golden brown, as you see, they partake 
of a degree of excellence which is to be 
had in no other mode of cooking that I 
know of.” 
When the meal was about over Mr. 
Adams told Matt to pour the water off 
the crabs and bring them to the table 
which consisted of a wide board that 
had been brought down in the wagon 
and rested on two sets of crossed stakes 
driven in the ground. Mr. Adams made 
a gesture with his hand to the other 
man saying as he did so: “I think he’ll 
say something.” And sure enough as 
the lad raised the lid from the kettle 
in which the crabs were boiling he gave 
a start and dropping the lid back 
walked to the table saying as he did 
so: “Them crabs ain’t no good now, 
they’re all turned rusty; must a been 
somethin’ in the water you put ’em in.” 
Mr. Adams brought his hand down on 
the table with a decided bang, and Mr. 
Woodhull, shaking with laughter, said: 
“Matt, every circus has its clown.” The 
men explained to him that all such 
creatures as crabs, lobsters and prawn 
turn red when boiled, and that these 
were all right. 
The boy walked back to the fire and 
taking up the kettle and draining out 
the water brought the crabs and 
dumped them on the table. With the 
others he was soon picking out the 
white, flukey meat and pronounced it 
prime. Mr. Adams ate but one crab 
and while the others were finishing 
them, he busied himself setting up his 
light tackle, and the boy was much in- 
terested in the enamelled silk line on the 
reel. He had never seen one before and 
examined it closely, remarking as he 
did so: “I don’t see no sense much in a 
line like that.” Mr. Adams made no 
reply other than to say that when he 
had the dishes cleaned up he would have 
a chance to see how it worked. 
W HEN the sun had gone down be- 
hind the hills and there was a 
suspicion of shade creeping 
through the woodland, the three stepped 
into the boat and were instructed by 
Mr. Adams to keep it in the center of 
the stream. He then attached a long 
single gut leader to his line. In the 
loops of the leader he had previously 
fastened two gaudy bass flies. The boy 
forgot his steering and gazed with in- 
terest at the arrangement, at last say- 
ing: “Them things looks jest like that 
dude had what called me buckskin, 
on’y bigger.” “Now,” said Mr. Adams, 
“you fellows keep the boat in the middle 
of the stream and don’t let it more than 
just move. I don’t know that I’ll catch 
anything; it’s an experiment.” 
Stripping the line from the reel with 
his hand he began whipping the flies 
first toward one bank then toward the 
other, giving a little line at each cast 
until he had out all he could command. 
Every root projecting from the bank 
was cast around as well as brush lying 
at the water’s edge, Mr. Woodhull, who 
had seen some fly fishing done, made no 
comment but the lad, after perhaps 
three hundred yards of water had been 
fished over and no results showing, 
blurted out: “It sure seems to me like 
fool fishin’; them bugs don’t go down 
in the water none, as if a fish’d come 
up to the top after somethin’ they nor 
anybody else much ever seen afore." 
Mr. Adams kept on casting and as the 
flies touched the water near a lot of 
brush there was a quick splash and 
