"~Noo, I'll cut," said Dannie. "Keep your eye on me sharp. See me
cut my line at the end o' my pole." He snipped the line in two.
"Noo watch," he cautioned," I dinna want contra deection about this!"
He picked up the Bass, and taking the line by which it was fast at
its mouth, he slowly drew it through his fingers. The wiry silk
line slipped away, and the heavy cord whipped out free.
"Is this my line?" asked Dannie, holding it up.
Jimmy nodded.
"Is the Black Bass my fish? Speak up!" cried Dannie, dangling the
fish from the line.
"It's yours," admitted Jimmy.
"Then I'll be damned if I dinna do what I please wi' my own!" cried
Dannie. With trembling fingers he extracted the hook, and dropped
it. He took the gasping big fish in both hands, and tested its
weight. "Almost seex," he said. "Michty near seex!" And he tossed
the Black Bass back into the Wabash.
Then he stooped, and gathered up his pole and line.
With one foot he kicked the catfish, the tangled silk line, and the
jointed rod, toward Jimmy. "Take your fish!" he said. He turned and
plunged into the river, recrossed it as he came, gathered up the
dinner pail and shovel, passed Mary Malone, a tumbled heap in the
bushes, and started toward his cabin.
The Black Bass struck the water with a splash, and sank to the mud
of the bottom, where he lay joyfully soaking his dry gills, parched
tongue, and glazed eyes. He scooped water with his tail, and poured
it over his torn jaw. And then he said to his progeny, "Children,
let this be a warning to you.
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