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I CATCHING AND 
SPEARING SUCKERS 
(CONTINUED FROM PAGE 599 ) 
“Thought a blacksnake was after him 
sure,” he said. “If you get ’em headed 
away from the water they’ll jump clean 
across a field cryin’ like babies. Gosh, 
didn’t he go? Frogs is nachul bom fools 
anyway,’’ he continued, “you can ketch 
'em with a little red rag tied to a fishin’ 
hook an’ swing it in front of ’em. The 
first time it passes they’ll stretch up an’ 
their eyes’ll bulge out ’nen when it comes 
back, plop! an’ you got him. They alius 
comes with both forefeet holdin’ tight 
to the sides of their heads like an old 
woman with the headache. Gosh, but 
they look funny.” 
B efore reaching the place where 
they were to begin fishing they 
crossed a small brook on a log. As 
they did so, several fish of nearly a 
foot in length went swiftly upstream, 
their backs making a decided wake in 
the shallow water. “Are they trout?” 
asked Mr. Woodhull excitedly as he 
watched them go. “Naw,” said Matt in 
disgust, “them’s on’y chub suckers — 
chubs we call ’em. They’re no good ’cept 
to throw sticks at an’ see ’em go. You 
alius see ’em in shoal water ’nen they 
dodge an’ hide. Two men who was 
fishin’ here las’ summer called ’em ‘stone 
rollers’; what for I don’t know. They 
said you could take a red raspberry and 
put it on a small hook an’ thread an’ 
float it down-stream just ’fore dark an’ 
the fish would grab it; meb’ they was 
stringin’ me. But,” he added, “if you 
did you would on’y be swappin’ good ras’- 
berries for nothin’ but bones.” The lads 
similes were sometimes crude and usually 
quaint but always wholesome and carried 
points for reflection. “This is where I 
gen’ly ti'y first for ’em. Sometimes 
they’re here but they change about a lot; 
there’s holes all down-stream from here. 
You alius find ’em where the water don’t 
run swift an’ where it just turns round’n 
round, washin’ in the things they feed 
on, I guess. I don’t put the hook clean 
through the worm, just loop it through 
’bout twice an’ let the end hang down 
an’ wiggle. They see it better; ’nen I 
move my cork a few inches at a time ’till 
the hook swims clear of the bottom. 
Suckers is alius feedin’ there, you never 
find ’em near the top.” The two seated 
themselves on the grass, which was 
flecked here and there with patches of 
cow-slips and violets. Across the creek, 
clusters of primroses nodded in the gen- 
tle summer breeze. All nature seemed 
at rest and the soul of the man cried 
aloud for joy. He was living close to 
nature’s heart now and she was paying 
him in coin richer far than mined gold 
in the way of returning health. He was 
seeking no sensational catch of scaled 
beauties that early summer afternoon. 
He was only in quest of the humblest 
of fishes; yet a very Paradise of beauty 
and repose was all about him. Besides 
the boy was there, a cheerful setting of 
enthusiasm and freckles. “I’ve got a 
nibble of something,” he said quietly, and 
the attention of the lad was drawn from 
