172 
FOREST AND STREAM 
March, 191 
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(continued from page 143) 
then he inquired, “Ketch any?” We shook 
our heads. “No wonder—with them 
things,” says Josiah indicating our rods; 
“whut be you usin’ fer bait?” Nick ex¬ 
plained to the boy the nature of a fly and 
showed him flies of various colors. They 
were the first he had ever seen. “Huh,” 
he snorts scornfully, “fish won’t eat feath¬ 
ers.” That instant the big bronze beauty 
in the pool selected to rise clear of the sur¬ 
face and fall back with a mighty splash! 
“Gee-whillikers!” gasps Josiah springing 
to his feet with popping eyes, “did you fell¬ 
ers see that un!” We both nodded and 
kept right on smoking. “Why don’t you 
ketch him?” pants Josiah. “Josiah,” says 
Nick with a patient sigh, “that trout is not 
the ketchable kind. Newt and I have been 
fishin’ for him day after day, 'but it’s no 
use—he’s too wise.” “Want me to ketch 
him fer you?” asks Josiah, his eyes fairly 
dancing and his face shining wdth excite¬ 
ment. It wasn’t polite, but Nick and I both 
busted out laffin at the absurdity of the 
kid’s idea. “Honest Injun I’ll give him to 
you after I ketch him,” Josiah goes on as 
if he thought that was the part we doubted. 
“You go ahead and catch him,” says Nick, 
“and after you catch him, he’s yours.” 
Josiah reached into his blue-jeans pocket 
and pulled out a mingled gob of earth and 
writhing angle worms. (Why bother with 
a bait can when you have a pocket?) Se¬ 
lecting three of the fattest, most succulent 
squirmers he draped them quickly on his 
hook with trembling fingers. Grabbing up 
his rod he ran eagerly down to the edge of 
the pool while Nick and I winked at each 
other and sat up to witness the poor kid’s 
disappointment. Josiah couldn’t reach the 
trout from the shore, so he splashed boldly 
into the pool until he stood nearly waist 
deep. Then slammed his hook, worms and 
sinker well above the trout. 
B ING!—knock me down with a feather 
if that big fool of a trout didn’t try to 
swaller hook, line and sinker! “I got 
him!” screeched Josiah snubbing the barb, 
home! The line cut the water like a knife 
as the fish dashed madly back and forth!, 
Nick and I, stupified, stumbled down to, 
the edge of the pool as the fish skated 
along the surface making the water boil! 
By main strength and awkwardness Jo -1 
siah hauled the big fish high and dry 
Josiah was hanging on grimly and tryinn 
to back toward shore—his “pole” was ben 
into a half circle! “Give ’im more line! 1 ] 
bawled Nick—which, of course, was sill) 1 
because the fish already had all the line th 
kid possessed. Nick and I were both mad 
ly excited and shouted directions in choru 
