ed spread far down the pier, and the boys, for the first
time in their lives, tasted the delight of being the cynosure of the
eyes of a rapidly increasing crowd. The man with the potatoes had forced
his way to the pier's edge and gave advice with an almost proprietary
manner. The fat negress' husband, roused from his inaction, gibbered
delightedly as the line circled more and more slowly through the water,
while John panted and reeled, slacked and rereeled line until the
exhausted fish rose to the surface directly beneath him.

"Gee," gasped Silvey, awe-struck.

"No wonder he fought like an alligator fish," vouchsafed the southerner.

"Who says 'taters don't catch anything?" asked the man of that bait
proudly. "Twenty pounds or I'll eat my shirt."

Cautiously, very cautiously, lest the fish make a sudden frightened dash
for liberty, John drew in line to raise the captive from the water.

"Y'all wait a minute," said the southerner. "Land him in my minny net.
That's safer."

But the minnow net, thanks to its abbreviated handle, lacked an easy two
feet of the water, reach as the gaunt, outstretched figure might.

"H'ist away," he ordered finally. "I'll shove under when he gets high
enough."

Inch by inch, the quivering body rose from the water. Appeared above the
wire rim of the net, first the staring, goggle eyes, then the slowly
laboring gills, the twitching side fins, and six inches of glistening
scales.

"Now!" shouted the southerner.

Then, as if sensing the imminent danger, the great body gave a
convulsive wrench, the light hook tore through the soft-fleshed mouth,
and the carp, rebounding from the bark-covered piling, dove into the
lake with a splash and disappeared from sight.

"Shucks!" ejaculated Silvey.

John sat down on the pier suddenly and very quietly. His tackle had
snarled, and as the throng returned to their own poles, he picked at the
tangle of line in the reel while his lower lip trembled piteously.

To have landed that Goliath among fishes! What a triumphal procession it
would have been--a march down the home street with such a captive. How
Sid DuPree and the Harrison boys would have stared! He rebaited and
dropped his line forlornly into the water.

"Maybe he'll bite again," he suggested, hoping against fate.

The minutes dragged. The gaunt, gray-faced southerner stretched out on
the pier for a nap. The sandy-haired German rose from his seat beside
the hunchback, stretched the stiffn