'Don't care,' said Mose, 'I'm goin' t' go fishin t'morrer. If there reely is any sech fish - which I don't believe there is - I'm goin' t' rassle with him an' mebbe tek him out o' the river. Thet fish is sp'llin' the moral character o' this town. He oughter be rode on a rail - thet fish hed.'
How he would punish a trout in that manner Mr Tupper failed to explain, but his metaphor was always a worse fit than his trousers and that was bad enough.
It was just before haying and, there being little to do, we had also planned to try our luck in the morning. When, at sunrise, we were walking down the cow-path to the woods I saw Uncle Eb had a coil of bed cord on his shoulder.
'What's that for?' I asked.
'Wall,' said he, 'goin' t' hev fun anyway. If we can't ketch one thing we'll try another.'
We had great luck that morning and when our basket was near full we came to Deep Hole and made ready for a swim in the water above it. Uncle Eb had looped an end of the bed cord and tied a few pebbles on it with bits of string.
'Now,' said he presently, 'I want t' sink this loop t' the bottom an' pass the end o' the cord under the driftwood so 't we can fetch it 'crost under water.'
There was a big stump, just opposite, with roots running down the bank into the stream. I shoved the line under the drift with a pole and then hauled it across where Uncle Eb drew it up the bank under the stump roots.
'In 'bout half an hour I cal'late Mose Tupper'll be 'long,' he whispered. 'Wisht ye'd put on yer clo's an' lay here back o' the stump an' hold on t' the cord. When ye feel a bite give a yank er two an' haul in like Sam Hill - fifteen feet er more quicker'n scat.
Snatch his pole right away from him. Then lay still.'
Uncle Eb left me, shortly, going up stream. It was near an hour before I heard them coming. Uncle Eb was talking in a low tone as they came down the other bank.
'Drop right in there,' he was saying, 'an' let her drag down, through the deep water, deliberate like. Git clus t' the bottom.'
Peering through a screen of bushes I could see an eager look on the unlovely face of Moses. He stood leaning toward the water and jiggling his hook along the bottom. Suddenly I saw Mose jerk and felt the cord move. I gave it a double twitch and began to pull. He held hard for a jiffy and then stumbled and let go yelling like mad.
The pole hit the water with a splash and went out of sight like a diving frog. I brought it well under the foam and driftwood. Deep Hole resumed its calm, unruffled aspect. Mose went running toward Uncle Eb.
''S a whale!' he shouted. 'Ripped the pole away quicker'n lightnin'.'
'Where is it?' Uncle Eb asked.
'Tuk it away fm me,' said Moses. 'Grabbed it jes' like thet" he added with a violent jerk of his hand.
'What d' he dew with it?' Uncle Eb enquired.
Mose looked thoughtfully at the water and scratched his head, his features all a tremble.
'Dunno,' said he. 'Swallered it mebbe.'
'Mean t' say ye lost hook, line, sinker 'n pole?'
'Hook, line, sinker 'n pole,' he answered mournfully. 'Come nigh haulin' me in tew.'
''Tain't possible,' said Uncle Eb.
Mose expectorated, his hands upon his hips, looking down at the water.
'Wouldn't eggzac'ly say 'twas possible,' he drawled, 'but 'twas a fact.'
'Yer mistaken,' said Uncle Eb.
'No I hain't" was the answer, 'I tell ye I see it.'
'Then if ye see it the nex' thing ye orter see 's a doctor. There's sumthin' wrong with you sumwheres.'
'Only one thing the matter o' me,' said Mose with a little twinge of remorse. 'I'm jest a natural born perfec' dum fool. Never c'u'd b'lieve there was any sech fish.'
'Nobody ever said there was any sech fish,' said Uncle Eb. 'He's done more t' you 'n he ever done t' me. Never served me no sech trick as thet. If I was you I'd never ask nobody t' b'lieve it 'S a leetle tew much.'
Mose went slowly and picked up his hat. Then he returned to the bank and looked regretfully at the water.
'Never see the beat o' thet,' he went on. 'Never see sech power 'n a fish. Knocks the spots off any fish I ever hearn of.'
'Ye riled him with that big tackle o' yourn,' said Uncle Eb. 'He wouldn't stan' it.'
'Feel jest as if I'd hed holt uv a wil' cat" said Mose. 'Tuk the hull thing - pole an' all - quicker 'n lightnin'. Nice a bit o' hickory as a man ever see. Gol' durned if I ever heem o' the like o' that, ever.'
He sat down a moment on the bank.
'Got t' rest a minute,' he remarked. 'Feel kind o' wopsy after thet squabble.'
They soon went away. And when Mose told the story of 'the swallered pole' he got the same sort of reputation he had given to others. Only it was real and large and lasting.
'Wha' d' ye think uv it?' he asked, when he had finished.
'Wall,' said Ransom Walker, 'wouldn't want t' say right out plain t' yer face.'
''Twouldn't he p'lite,' said Uncle Eb soberly.
'Sound a leetle ha'sh,' Tip Taylor added.
'Thet fish has jerked the fear o' God out o' ye - thet's the way it looks t' me,' said Carlyle Barber.
'Yer up 'n the air, Mose,' said another. 'Need a sinker on ye.' They bullied him - they talked him down, demurring mildly, but firmly.
'Tell ye what I'll do,' said Mose sheepishly, 'I'll b'lieve you fellers if you'll b'lieve me.'
'What, swop even? Not much!' said one, with emphasis.' 'Twouldn't be fair. Ye've ast us t' b'lieve a genuwine out 'n out impossibility.'
Mose lifted his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully. There was a look of embarrassment in his face.
'Might a ben dreamin',' said he slowly. 'I swear it's gittin' so here 'n this town a feller can't hardly b'lieve himself.'
'Fur '5 my experience goes,' said Ransom Walker, 'he'd be a fool 'f he did.'
''Minds me o' the time I went fishin' with Ab Thomas,' said Uncle Eb. 'He ketched an ol' socker the fast thing. I went off by myself 'n got a good sized fish, but 'twant s' big 's hisn. So I tuk 'n opened his mouth n poured in a lot o' fine shot. When I come back Ab he looked at my fish 'n begun t' brag. When we weighed 'em mine was a leetle heavier.
'"What!" says he. "'Tain't possible thet leetle cuss uv a trout 's heavier 'n mine."
''Tis sarrin," I said.
''Dummed deceivin' business," said he as he hefted 'em both.
"Gittin' so ye can't hardly b'lieve the stillyards."'
