Kneeling on a mossy knoll we baited the hooks; then Uncle Eb beckoned to me.
I came to him on tiptoe.
'See thet there foam 'long side o' the big log ?' he whispered, pointing with his finger.
I nodded.
'Cre-e-ep up jest as ca-a-areful as ye can,' he went on whispering.
'Drop in a leetle above an' let 'er float down.' Then he went on, below me, lifting his feet in slow and stealthy strides.
He halted by a bit of driftwood and cautiously threw in, his arm extended, his figure alert.

The squint on his face took a firmer grip.
Suddenly his pole gave a leap, the water splashed, his line sang in the air and a fish went up like a rocket.

As we were looking into the treetops it thumped the shore beside him, quivered a moment and flopped down the bank He scrambled after it and went to his knees in the brook coming up empty-handed.

The water was slopping out of his boot legs.
'Whew!' said he, panting with excitement, as I came over to him.
'Reg'lar ol' he one,' he added, looking down at his boots.

'Got away from me--consarn him! Hed a leetle too much power in the arm.' He emptied his boots, baited up and went back to his fishing.