t to be caught napping.

"We got that sled thar, but hit won't be big enough," he said gravely.
"An' our two-hoss wagon's out in the cornfield. We'll have to string the
fish, leave 'em in the river and go fer 'em in the mornin'."

"All right, Buck." The Blight was greatly amused at Buck.

Two hundred yards down the road stood his sisters over the figure of a
man outstretched in the road. Unashamed, they smiled at us. The man in
the road was "pap"--tight--and they were trying to get him home.

We cast into a dark pool farther down and fished most patiently; not a
bite--not a nibble.

"Are there any fish in here, Buck?"

"Dunno--used ter be." The shadows deepened; we must go back to the
house.

"Is there a dam below here, Buck?"

"Yes, thar's a dam about a half-mile down the river."

I was disgusted. No wonder there were no bass in that pool.

"Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"You never axed me," said Buck placidly.

I began winding in my line.

"Ain't no bottom to that pool," said Buck.

Now I never saw any rural community where there was not a bottomless
pool, and I suddenly determined to shake one tradition in at least one
community. So I took an extra fish-line, tied a stone to it, and climbed
into a canoe, Buck watching me, but not asking a word.

"Get in, Buck."

Silently he got in and I pushed off--to the centre.

"This the deepest part, Buck?"

"I reckon so."

I dropped in the stone and the line reeled out some fifty feet and began
to coil on the surface of the water.

"I guess that's on the bottom, isn't it, Buck?"

Buck looked genuinely distressed; but presently he brightened.

"Yes," he said, "ef hit ain't on a turtle's back."

Literally I threw up both hands and back we trailed--fishless.

"Reckon you won't need that two-hoss wagon," said Buck. "No, Buck, I
think not." Buck looked at the Blight and gave himself the pleasure of
his first chuckle. A big crackling, cheerful fire awaited us. Through
the door I could see, outstretched on a bed in the next room, the limp
figure of "pap" in alcoholic sleep. The old mother, big, kind-faced,
explained--and there was a heaven of kindness and charity in her
drawling voice.

"Dad didn' often git that a-way," she said; "but he'd been out a-huntin'
hawgs that mornin' and had met up with some teamsters and gone to a
political speakin' and had tuk a dram or two of their mean whiskey, and
not havin' nothin' on his stummick, hit had all gon