account of plain onriness.” “"Well,” 
’tain’t no fault of mine cause its 
charged,” said Matt, “if you’d a seen 
them eggs go whizzin’ all over the store 
you’d athought somebody must pay for 
’em ’sides me,” and the boy walked into 
the house and on to bed. 
4 4 T WAS up to the store this morn- 
2 ing,” said the Aunt, “and found 
out about them eggs,” as Matt re- 
turned from an errand to a distant 
neighbor just before noon the next day. 
“You ain’t blamed much ’cept your ton- 
gue was pert.” “I never had a sucker 
bite yet that I didn’t yank,” said Matt 
quietly, “an’ alius spect to.” “I seen 
Mr. Woodhull in the store,” continued 
his aunt, “and he said he was cornin’ 
over after dinner, but what he keeps tag- 
gin after a boy all the time for beats 
me.” “That kind o’ talk started a fight 
once,” said Matt with a twinkle in his 
eye. Aunt Mary laughed and the boy 
giggled. “Anyways when he first come 
here he looked so white and pinched up 
I kind a wanted to help him and I ain’t 
objected none to you goin’ with him. 
I felt some out of doors would 
do him good.” “Now, lissen to 
that, will you?” said the boy to 
himself as he went out to the 
shed, “Aunt Mary’s curin’ of 
him by not stoppin’ me from 
goin’ fishin’. Gosh; but she’s 
got notions.” 
“You’ll find him out by the 
shed,” she said to Mr. Wood- 
hull, after a few minutes con- 
versation in the afternoon, “he’s 
tinkerin’ at something.” He 
found the boy busily engaged in 
fastening a fish spear into the 
end of a maple pole about 10 feet 
long. He was drivin’ a ring or 
ferrule down so as to hold it 
firmly in place and did not see 
his friend until he was close to 
him. He was perspiring freely 
and his hat was on the grass by 
his knees. 
“The oT gig handle was ’bout 
played out,” he began, “an’ so 
I cut this un. I left it a little 
longer’n tother, a foot or so 
don’t hurt none when you’re 
shinin’ suckers. You can reach 
further.” The gig, as Matt persisted in 
calling the spear, was a four-prong affair 
of rustic build, evidently by the hand 
of some country blacksmith. The prongs 
were a trifle more than four inches 
long with a bar cut near the points. 
It had been given to him by a man 
moving from the place and was a cher- 
ished object. “I’ve got loads of suckers 
with her,” he said, after a pause and 
then proceeded to give Mr. Woodhull 
a general idea of the process of gig- 
gin’ suckers. “You get ’em sometimes 
in the day if you’re careful an’ quick, 
but you have to roust ’em out from 
sods’n roots with the gig, nen hit ’em 
quick but the best time is nights. 
They’re on the go all night an’ if you 
shine ’em right they lay right still. 
Seems ough you could pick ’em up 
with your hand if the water wasn’t 
too deep. An’ frogs,” he went on, “is 
perfec’ fools. Shine ’em right and you 
can pick ’em up like a stone.” To Mr. 
Woodhull, shinin’, as Matt called it, was 
a new procedure and he was curious 
about , it. “It’s this way,” he explained, 
“this time o’ the year the suckers run 
up in all these brooks from the river 
where they winter bed. They lay in the 
big holes in the creek in the daytime ’nen 
go up the small brooks at night where 
the water’s cold, to lay their eggs, seems 
ough they do, ’sides I never gigged one 
in the daytime with eggs. Seems if it’s 
the he ones lays ’round under the bushes 
an’ sods, the m.other suckers cornin’ up 
from the deep water on’y nights. I’ve 
seen ’em more’n once, a lot together 
where grass was or meb’e a bush an’ 
the water’d look like milk. I never gig 
’em that way, looks like murder to me, 
’sides eels eats lots of their eggs. I 
alius gig an eel; me an’ Aunt Mary like 
’em better’n suckers, but she won’t cook 
frogs. ‘Frenchies,’ she call ’em, but I 
don’t know why.” Mr. Woodhull ex- 
plained that the French people consid- 
ered frogs a great delicacy and that 
great numbers of them were sold in our 
The old sawmill, scene of many of Matt’s adventures 
own cities. “Could I sell ’em?” asked 
Matt eagerly. “You can sell all you can 
catch,” he was told, “The large ones 
sell best and always bring good prices.” 
“Why, the’s bushels of ’em around here, 
seems ough it might pay better’n ber- 
ryin’.” 
Mr. Woodhull told him if he wanted to 
try it he would show him how they had 
them dressed in the markets and that 
he knev/ of an eating house where they 
made a specialty of such delicacies and 
that they would probably take all he 
could gather. 
T’ne fish spear having been securely 
fastened in the handle. Matt proceeded 
to file the point to his liking then turning 
it over and back, said: “She’ll do,” and 
placed it to one side. “Ever try ‘asafit- 
dy’ on worms?” he asked, looking care- 
fully around to see if the coast was 
clear. Aunt Mary alius has a little 
mixed for the chickens, an I put a little 
on the worms when I go suckem’, they 
take them prime. But why they do the 
Lord knows, it smells fit to kill ’em’stid 
o’ catchin’ ’em. We’d better take poles 
a little stiffer’n what we used for perch,” 
and he began sorting out what he wished. 
“Suckers is heavier to lift outen the wa- 
ter. We might’s well be goin’,” he said, 
“we’ll fish along the creek for ’em till 
near dark ’nen go spearin’.” He packed 
up a can of worms after dosin’ ’em a 
little with Aunt Mary’s asafetida. “Bet- 
ter take all the hooks we used for cat- 
ties along, the 2-0 ones, as there’s roots 
an’ snags and like’s not we’ll lose some. 
I’ll get my shinin’ jack now,” he said, 
“no use cornin’ clean back for it.” From 
the shed he produced an innovation of 
his boyish ingenuity. It consisted of a 
section of a stove grate firmly lashed 
to a forked maple with wire. On this 
was to be carried the fire to do the 
shinin’. Next, his hatchet, which was 
one of his most cherished possessions. 
He had earned it by turning a lathe for 
the wheelwright at different times. With 
it he cut and drove stakes for his musk- 
rat traps and it was very useful 
in many ways. To carry it he 
had improvised a strap which 
he fastened to his suspenders at 
the back, so it would not be in 
his way. He next brought out 
a coarse bag that was not very 
sightly and smelled audibly of 
former trips. “They carry 
easier in this than in a basket 
when you get ’em,” he said. 
About 3 P. M. they started for 
the creek which was not the one 
mentioned in former chapters. 
At least a mile separated them 
and they flowed in different di- 
rections. 
A S they passed through the 
meadows the boy paused to 
cut with his hatchet a long 
root, blackened by fire, which 
had run through the dead grass 
at a previous date. As usual Mr. 
Woodhull was interested and 
asked what purpose he intended 
it for. “Goin’ to have some 
fun if I can find what I want,” 
he replied and said nothing fur- 
ther at the time. On coming to a 
pool of dead water in the meadow the 
boy began looking earnestly along the 
water. “Hoi’ on,” he said, “now stan' 
still an’ watch.” Stretching himself flat 
on the ground, he wormed forward, push- 
ing the root in front of him, weaving 
the end in and out around the bunches 
of grass at the water’s edge. Suddenly 
a creaking “scape” came from the ground 
and a large frog bounded into the air, its 
long legs trailing behind and at each 
leap emitted the same plaintive cry until, 
finding a place evidently suited to its 
purpose and far enough from its dreaded 
imaginary pursuer, it plunged headfore- 
most into the water where nothing was 
to be seen save a roiled place where it 
had quickly buried itself in the mud. 
The lad rolled over on his back and gig- 
gled and the man laughed outright, 
^CONTINUED ON PAGE 616), 
