Would he come home and put on dry clothing? But when had Jimmy
taken care of himself? Dannie felt that he should go back, bring
him home, and make him dress quickly.
A sharp pain shot across Dannie's swollen face. His lips shut
firmly. No! Jimmy had struck him. And Jimmy was in the wrong. The
fish was his, and he had a right to it. No man living would have
given it up to Jimmy, after he had changed poles. And slipped away
with a boy and gotten those minnows, too! And wouldn't offer him
even one. Much good they had done him. Caught a catfish on a dead
one! Wonder if he would take the catfish to town and have its
picture taken! Mighty fine fish, too, that channel cat! If it
hadn't been for the Black Bass, they would have wondered and
exclaimed over it, and carefully weighed it, and commented on the
gamy fight it made. Just the same he was glad, that he landed the
Bass. And he got it fairly. If Jimmy's old catfish mixed up with
his line, he could not help that. He baited, hooked, played, and
landed the Bass all right, and without any minnows either.
When he reached the top of the hill he realized that he was going
to look back. In spite of Jimmy's selfishness, in spite of the
blow, in spite of the ugly lie, Jimmy had been his lifelong
partner, and his only friend, and stiffen his neck as he would,
Dannie felt his head turning. He deliberately swung his fish pole
into the bushes, and when it caught, as he knew it would, he set
down his load, and turned as if to release it.
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