Those fish are a little soiled from
jumping about in the dust. You might wash them off at that shallow
place, while I go a little further on and try my luck."
I went a short distance up the creek, and threw my line into a
dark, shadowy pool, under some alders, where there certainly should
be fish. And, sure enough, in less than a minute I got a splendid
bite,--not only a bite, but a pull. I knew that I had certainly
hooked a big fish! The thing actually tugged at my line so that I
was afraid the pole would break. I did not fear for the line, for
that, I knew, was strong. I would have played the fish until he
was tired, and I could pull him out without risk to the pole, but I
did not know exactly how the process of "playing" was conducted. I
was very much excited. Sometimes I gave a jerk and a pull, and
then the fish would give a jerk and a pull.
Directly I heard some one running toward me, and then I heard
Euphemia cry out:
"Give him the butt! Give him the butt!"
"Give him what?" I exclaimed, without having time even to look up
at her.
"The butt! the butt!" she cried, almost breathlessly. "I know
that's right! I read how Edward Everett Hale did it in the
Adirondacks."
"No, it wasn't Hale at all," said I, as I jumped about the bank;
"it was Mr. Murray."
"Well, it was one of those fishing ministers, and I know that it
caught the fish."
"I know, I know. I read it, but I don't know how to do it."
"Perhaps you ought to punch him with it," said she.
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