Said the fat white grub to the new spoon hook,
With a cynical smile and a scornful look:
"Pray accept my very best wishes.
It is true you dazzle their eyes, I suppose,
But the fact remains, as every one knows,
That I am the food for fishes."
--_Lay of the Minstrel Pike._
Toots sat on the smooth top of a boulder on the river bank, gazing deep
down into the pool at his feet. The pool was shaded by the overhanging
branches of a cottonwood tree. The warm air was filled with the
fragrance of the country. It had painted the boy's cheeks a healthy
brown, and caused him to thrill with a sense of strength that was new
and delightful. The good surgeon's promise was fulfilled; Toots' leg
was now as straight as that of any boy, and no longer was it burdened
by the weight of iron straps. Concerning the iron straps he had just
one regret; when he returned to his friends, the Menial People, would
Mahmoud be able to recognize him, thus bereft of those symbols of
their affinity? He would soon know, for he and the Princess--whose
guest Toots was at her father's country home during the period of his
convalescence--were to return in a few days.
Near where Toots sat, the Princess played beside a little brook
that gurgled over its bed of cobble-stones. She was amusing herself
poking the end of a stick under the stones in the bed of the brook.
Occasionally a crawfish would dart out backward, glare at her savagely
with its beady eyes and snap its clumsy claws at the stick, whereupon
the Princess would utter a ladylike little shriek and retire to
another part of the brook. Suddenly she clapped her hands and exclaimed:
"Oh, here comes Reginald!"
[Illustration]
The Princess ran to meet a trim, precise looking young man in a linen
helmet, canvas coat and trousers and a pair of high boots, who was
coming down the steep bank with a beautiful new rod and reel on his
shoulder. Slung across the other shoulder was a large bag. This was to
put his fish in--when he had caught them. Toots never moved from his
seat on the boulder.
"Now, if you children will keep quiet," said Reginald, as he fastened a
brilliant contrivance of scarlet feathers and glittering silver on the
end of his slender silken line, "we shall have fried pike for supper."
"I'd rather have pickerel, if you please," said Toots.
[Illustration: Suddenly the Princess exclaimed: "Oh, here comes
Reginald!"]
"Pickerel never bite at this time of day," answered Reginald, with
authority. He stepped to the water's edge, where the brook entered
the river, and raised his rod. Swish! went the delicate bit of bamboo
through the air, the reel whizzed and the silken line shot far down
the stream. When the glittering bauble at its end struck the water,
Reginald wound up the reel slowly, anxiously watching the tip of the
rod. Toots and the Princess looked on in silence, the Princess because
of her admiration for the natty figure, and Toots out of politeness.
But the boy had small respect for Reginald's abilities as a
fisherman. Farmer John, with his crooked old pole and grubs for bait,
was Toots' ideal in the fishing line. Besides, John had told him about
the Pickerel Family whose home was in this same pool.
[Illustration]
Yes, John's story must be quite true, for now as he turned his gaze
from the unprofitable fisherman back to the pool, Toots was sure
he could see shadowy figures floating in and out among the rocks.
Certainly there was Grandfather Pickerel, the patriarch of the family.
Toots could see him now quite plainly. He was having a domestic
discussion with two other pickerel who bore a strong family resemblance
to him.
"They must be Father and Mother Pickerel," thought Toots.
[Illustration]
Darting about near by, Toots could see the whole brood of young
pickerels. They were of all sizes, from Big Brother Pickerel, who was
nearly as large as his father, down to Baby Pickerel, who was hardly
larger than a minnow. Suddenly Toots realized that something of unusual
importance was going on at the bottom of the pool, for as his eyes
grew more accustomed to the wavering lights and shadows in the water,
he could see, swimming about in the near neighborhood of the Pickerel
Family, a whole troop of collateral relations. He recognized Uncle
Pike by his fierce look and by the way he ordered the other relations
about. Toots knew Aunt Bass by her plump figure and the bright silver
suit she wore. She was swimming here and there, conversing amiably
with everybody. Miss Catfish, a distant and poor relation, was
lingering modestly in the background. Nobody seemed to be paying any
attention to her except Big Brother Pickerel, who kept edging over in
her direction, only to be pursued, reprimanded and driven back to the
inner family circle by Mother Pickerel. Toots felt that revelations of
the utmost significance were impending. He hardly dared to breathe.
Just then his observations were interrupted by the shrill voice of the
Princess: "Toots! Toots! John's coming!"
This was different. Toots scrambled down from the boulder and ran to
meet the big man with the tattered straw hat who was approaching with
his crooked fish-pole on his shoulder. In one hand John carried a rusty
oyster can which appeared to be full of dirt. Toots stuck his fingers
into the dirt and brought something white to the surface.
"They're grubs," he exclaimed delightedly. "Now we _shall_ have fried
pickerel for supper."
Reginald was reeling in his line. His face wore a look of discontent.
"Don't seem to have much appetite for red feathers to-day, do they?"
said John, as he stuck a grub on his hook and dropped it into the pool.
Reginald muttered something between his teeth, and walked toward
the rock where the Princess was standing. She gave him a look of
consolation. Toots was clambering up beside her. It was a good place
from which to watch John.
"Go away," said the Princess, drawing her short skirts about her. "Go
away; you smell of grubs."
But she held out her hand to Reginald and smiled on him in her most
fascinating manner. Toots went and stood by the side of John. At that
moment the big man gave a sharp tug at the crooked pole, and a shining
pickerel over a foot long lay flopping on the stones. Toots viewed the
fish at close range with bulging eyes, and said:
"Why, I know him. It's the father of the little pickerels."
"That so?" said John, sticking another grub on his hook and dropping it
into the pool again. "Well, we'll eat him fried for supper just the
same."
Toots' lip quivered. "Where will the little pickerels get another
father?" he asked.
"They don't need any," said John. "Grandfather Pickerel will look after
them. He's a wise old chap. Nobody's going to get a chance to fry him
in a hurry. I've hooked him half a dozen times, but I've never had a
chance to fry him yet."
"Did he get away?" asked Toots.
"Well, I should say he did. You never see more than the tip of the old
sinner's nose. When he's given you a glimpse of that, he bites off the
line and flops back into his hole."
Toots reflected for several moments, and then inquired: "What becomes
of the hook, John?"
"Oh, he swallows the hook," answered the big man, testily. "His
stomach must be half full of old iron by this time."
This was an interesting situation. Toots turned it over in his mind
slowly. Presently his attention was diverted by an exclamation from
John.
"Durn his skin!" the big man was saying. "Blest if I don't believe I've
got him again!"
John's line was being dragged frantically about in the pool. The pole
bent and splashed in the water. The big man's hat came off. Reginald
and the Princess interrupted their flirtation to join Toots beside the
pool.
"Out of the way, you folks!" shouted John. "Give me room. I'm going to
land the old sinner this time, or know the reason why."
All at once the crooked pole snapped in two, and John fell backward
with his heels in the air. The next instant he had dashed into the
pool up to his shoulders, and seized the small end of the pole, to
which the line was attached.
"Reel him in, why don't you?" sang out Reginald, laughing.
"Reel nothing," said John, wrathfully, from the middle of the pool.
"The only way to get this fish out is to jump on his back and ride him
out."
[Illustration]
John concluded to compromise by leading him out. He had wound several
yards of the line about his arm, and was wading toward the shore. The
fish was suspiciously quiet. The big man stepped out of the water and
drew in the line, hand over hand. Toots could see the dim outlines of
the fish as he allowed himself to be drawn toward the water's edge.
Suddenly he clapped his hands and cried out gleefully:
"I know him! I know him! It's Grandfather Pickerel."
"So do I know him," said John. "Just you wait till I get my hands on
him."
At length Grandfather Pickerel's long, sharp nose appeared above the
water. The big man stepped back ready for one long, strong pull at the
right instant. The wary old fish opened his lean jaws to their full
width, and brought them together with a vicious snap. It was at exactly
the right moment. Once more John lay on his back with his heels in
the air, while Grandfather Pickerel glided with much dignity into the
depths of the pool.
"Now, if you had had my rod and reel," said Reginald, "you could have--"
"Your rod and reel be durned," said John, as he picked up the fish
lying on the stones, and started up the bank with it. "If ever that old
sinner gets hold of your rod and reel, he'll make toothpicks of 'em."