At times, the pointed nose of a
muskrat wove its way across the river, leaving a shining ripple in
its wake. In the deep woods squirrels barked and chattered. Frost-
loosened crimson leaves came whirling down, settling in a bright
blanket that covered the water several feet from the bank, and
unfortunate bees that had fallen into the river struggled
frantically to gain a footing on them. Water beetles shot over the
surface in small shining parties, and schools of tiny minnows
played along the banks. Once a black ant assassinated an enemy on
Dannie's shoe, by creeping up behind it and puncturing its abdomen.
Noon came, and neither of the fishermen spoke or moved from their
work. The lunch Mary had prepared with such care they had
forgotten. A little after noon, Dannie got another strike, deep
fishing. Mid-afternoon found them still even, and patiently
fishing. Then it was not so long until supper time, and the air was
steadily growing colder. The south wind had veered to the west, and
signs of a black frost were in the air. About this time the larks
arose as with one accord, and with a whirr of wings that proved how
large the flock was, they sailed straight south.
Jimmy hauled his minnow bucket from the river, poured the water
from it, and picked his last minnow, a dead one, from the grass.
Dannie was watching him, and rightly guessed that he would fish
deep. So Dannie scooped the remaining dirt from his pockets, and
found three grubs. He placed them on his hook, lightened his
sinker, and prepared to skitter once more.
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