AN AFTERNOON'S FISHING
"Sitting on a bank where the bull frogs dream--
Sitting on the shore of a deep, deep stream--
Sitting on a log and waiting for a bite--
Bound to catch our supper, if we fish--all--night."
THE little boy was holding a long cane pole that he had cut as they came
along, on the small end of which he had fastened a hook and line, baited
with a lively worm. The Bear was leaning back against a tree and
watching him lazily.
"Bo," said he presently, "I shouldn't wonder if that singing of yours
scared the fish all away."
"I wouldn't say that to you, Ratio. I know if you'd wake up and take the
fiddle and play some they'd walk right out on the bank."
The Bear laughed sleepily. He was in a comfortable position and the warm
afternoon sun was soothing. He hummed some negro lines he had heard:--
"When yo' wan' to ketch fish yo' mus' jes' set an' wait--
When yo' wan' to ketch fish yo' must spit on yo' bait--
When yo' wan' to ketch fish yo' mus' git across de tide,
For dey's alw'ys bettah fishin' on de oth--ah--side."
"I shouldn't wonder if you were right, Ratio," assented Bo, anxiously.
"It does look better over there, only there's no way to get across
except this slippery looking, rotten old log, and I don't feel much like
trying that."
"Walk out on it a little way, Bo," said Horatio, getting interested,
"and throw your line over there by that cypress snag. That looks like a
good place."
Bosephus rose cautiously, and, balancing himself with the long cane
pole, edged his way a few inches at a time toward the middle of the
stream, pausing every little way to be sure that the log showed no sign
of yielding. He could swim, but he did not wish for a wetting, and
besides there were a good many alligators in these Louisiana waters and
some very fierce snapping turtles. He had heard the negroes say that
alligators were particularly fond of boys, and that snapping turtles
never let go till it thundered. He had no wish to furnish supper for an
alligator and there were no signs of a thunder storm. Hence he advanced
with great prudence. When he had nearly reached the centre Horatio
called to him.
"Try it from there, Bo! Your line's long enough to reach!"
The little boy steadied himself by a limb that projected from the log
and swung his line in the direction the Bear had indicated. Then he
waited, holding his breath almost, and watching his float, which lay
silently on the water. Horatio was watching, too, with half closed eyes,
and now and then giving instructions.
"Pull it a little more to the right, Bo--nearer that root," he
whispered.
Bosephus obeyed, but the float still lay silently on the water.
"Draw it a little toward you, Bo; sometimes when they think its going
away they make a rush for it."
Again the little boy did as directed, but without result.
"Lift out your bait and see if it's all right. Now fling it a little
further toward the bank."
Bo lifted out the bait, which was still lively and untouched, and flung
it far over toward the other shore. Then he waited in silence once more,
but there was no sign of even so much as a nibble.
"Oh, pshaw, Ratio!" he said at last impatiently. "I don't believe you
know anything about fishing. Either that or there are no fish in
here--one of the two."
He had turned his head toward the Bear as he spoke and was not looking
at his float. All at once the Bear sat straight up, pointing at the
water.
"Your cork's gone!" he shouted. "You've got one! Pull, Bo, pull!"
The little boy turned so quickly that he almost lost his balance and
could not immediately obey. Horatio was wild with excitement.
"Why don't you pull?" he howled. "Do you expect him to climb up your
pole? Are you waiting for him to make his toilet before he appears?
Well, talk about fishermen!"
Bosephus was struggling madly to follow instructions. He was holding to
the dead limb like grim death and pulling fiercely at the pole with one
hand. The fish must be a large one, for it swung furiously from side to
side, but could not be brought to the surface. Horatio on the bank was
still shouting and dancing violently.
"You'll lose him!" he yelled; "you'll never in the world land him that
way. You ought to go fishing for tin fish in a tub! Just let me out
there; I'll show you how to fish!" and Horatio made a rush toward the
log on which Bo was standing.
[Illustration: "PULL, BO, PULL!"]
"Go back! Go back!" screamed the little boy. "It won't hold us both!"
But the Bear was too much excited by this time to heed any caution. He
hurried to the centre of the log and seizing the pole from Bo's hand
gave a fierce pull. The fish swung clear of the water and far out on the
bank, but the strain on their support was too great. There was a loud
cracking sound, and before they knew what had happened both were
struggling in the water.
"Help! Help!" howled Horatio. "I'm drowning!"
"Hold to the end of the log!" shouted Bo. "I'll swim ashore and tow you
in with the pole!"
He struck out as he spoke and in a few strokes was near enough to seize
some bushes that overhung the water. Suddenly he heard Horatio give
forth a scream so wild that he whirled about to look. Then he saw
something that made him turn cold. In a half circle, a few feet away
from where Horatio was clinging to the end of the broken log for dear
life, there had risen from the water a number of long, black, ugly
heads. A drove of alligators!
"Bo! Bo!" shrieked the wretched Bear. "They're after me! They'll eat me
alive--skin and all! Save me! Save me!"
The little boy swung himself to the shore and dashed up the bank. His
first thought had been to seize the fishing pole and with it to drag
Horatio to safety. But at that instant his eye fell on the violin. He
had learned to play very well himself during the last few weeks and he
remembered the night of the panther dance in the Arkansaw woods. He
snatched up the instrument and struck the bow across the strings.
"Sing, Horatio!" he shouted. "It's your turn to sing!" and Bosephus
broke out into a song that after the first line the Bear joined as if he
never expected to sing again on earth.
[Illustration: Music]
"Oh, there was an Old Bear went out for a swim,
And the alligators came just to take a look at him,
[Illustration: "OH, THERE WAS AN OLD BEAR WENT OUT FOR A SWIM."]
[Illustration: Music]
And the Bear was glad to see 'em, and he wanted them to stay,
And he sang a song to please 'em so they wouldn't go away."
As the music rolled out on the water there rose to the surface another
half circle of dark objects. The Bear shut his eyes and his voice grew
faint. They were snapping turtles.
"Stop, Bo!" he wailed. "It's no use. It only brings more of 'em, and new
kinds."
"No, no; go on," whispered Bo, who had crept down quite to the water's
edge. "Now--ready! sing!"
[Illustration: Music]
"Then 'tis 'Gator, Alligator, we expect to see you later,
If you really have to leave us--if you can't remain to tea--
[Illustration: Music]
Then 'tis Turtle, Mr. Turtle, you will notice we are fertile,
In providing entertainment for our com--pa--nee."
New arrivals appeared constantly until the water and logs and stumps by
the water's edge were alive with listening creatures. Still remembering
the panther dance the boy called in a whisper to Horatio:--
"Softly now; sing it again."
They repeated the song, letting their voices and music gradually blend
into the whispering of the trees. Bo sang with closed eyes, but the
watching Bear saw the listening circle of heads sink lower and lower so
gently that he could not be sure when the water had closed over them.
From roots and logs and stumps dark forms slid noiselessly into the
stream and disappeared. The music died away and ceased. Horatio looked
at the little boy eagerly.
[Illustration: "HELP! HELP!"]
"Quick, the pole, Bo," he called softly. "They're all gone."
A moment later he was holding on to the cane pole with teeth and claws
and being towed to shore. As he marched up the bank he picked up the
large fish that was still flopping at the end of the line.
"Very fine, Bosephus," he said, holding it up. "You wouldn't have had
that fish for supper if it hadn't been for me, Bosephus."