rney agreed.

McAllen cleared his throat again. He was a roly-poly little man; over
seventy now but still healthy-looking, with an apple-cheeked,
sunburned face. Over a pair of steel-rimmed glasses his faded blue
eyes peered musingly at Barney. "Around thirty-five, aren't you?"

"Thirty-seven."

"Married?"

"Divorced."

"Any particular hobbies?"

Barney laughed. "I play a little golf. Not very seriously."

McAllen clicked his tongue. "Well, what do you do for fun?"

"Oh ... I'd say I enjoy almost anything I get involved in." Barney,
still smiling, felt a touch of wariness. He'd been expecting questions
from McAllen, but not quite this kind.

"Mainly making money, eh? Well," McAllen conceded, "that's not a bad
hobby. Practical, too. I ... whup! Just a moment."

The tip of the slender rod in his left hand dipped slightly, and sixty
feet out beyond the end of the old dock a green and white bobber began
twitching about. Then the bobber suddenly disappeared. McAllen lifted
the rod tip a foot or two with a smooth, swift motion, and paused.

"Hooked!" he announced, looking almost childishly pleased.

The fish on the far end of the line didn't seem to put up much of a
struggle, but the old man reeled it in slowly and carefully, giving
out line from time to time, then taking it back. He seemed completely
absorbed. Not until the fish had been worked close to the dock was
there a brief minor commotion near the surface. Then McAllen was down
on one knee, holding the rod high with one hand, reaching out for his
catch with the other. Barney had a glimpse of an unimpressive green
and silver disk, reddish froggy eyes. "_Very_ nice crappie!" McAllen
informed him with a broad smile. "Now--" He placed the rod on the
dock, reached down with his other hand. The fish's tail slapped the
water; it turned sideways, was gone.

"Lost it!" Barney commented, surprised.

"Huh?" McAllen looked around. "Well, no, young man--I _turned_ him
loose. He wasn't hooked bad. Crappies have delicate lips, but I use a
barbless hook. Gives them better than a fighting chance." He stood up
with the rod, dusting the knees of his baggy slacks. "Get all the
eating fish I want anyway," he added.

"You really enjoy that sport, don't you?" Barney said curiously.

* * * * *

McAllen advised him with the seriousness of the true devotee to try it
some time. "It gets to you. It can get to be a way of living. I've
been fish