at his shoe
top.
"Wait a minute, Sil. My heel's full of cinders."
He shook the offending boot free of the irritants, relaced it and leaned
over the bridge rail for a moment. From beneath, northward, stretched
the park lagoon calm and dark in the uncertain morning light. Fronting
him rose the stately columns and porticoes of the park museum, once a
member of an exposition whose glories are almost forgotten, which
now veiled its need of repair in the kindly dawn and formed a
symphony in gray with the willow-studded, low-lying lagoon banks.
The air throbbed with the subdued noises of awakening animal life. In a
shrub near them, a catbird cleared his throat in a few harsh notes as a
prelude to a morning of tuneful parody, and on the slope below, a fat
autumn-plumaged robin dug frantically in the sod for fugitive worms.
"My! Isn't it just peachy?" breathed John ecstatically.
"Yes," assented his companion, intent upon the lesser spectacle of the
robin. "Don't you wish you could find worms like he does, Fletch?"
Once more they resumed their journey lakewards, breaking into the
inevitable dogtrot as the long, dark pier came in sight. At the land end,
John stooped to pick up a few sun-dried minnows which lay on a plank,
and a little farther on Silvey grabbed eagerly at an earth-filled tomato
can.
"Nary a worm," he exclaimed in disgust, as he threw the tin into the
lake.
But shortly, their diligent search was rewarded by finding a tobacco-tin
which contained at least a dozen samples of the squirming bait, and the
anxiety regarding that problem was permanently allayed.
But one disciple of Izaak Walton had arrived before the boys, and he
sat crouched in a huddled, lonely heap at the end of the pier, in a
manner which seemed scarcely human. As they drew nearer, John
broke into a sudden exclamation:
"Old hunchback! Been out here all night again. Wonder if he's caught
anything!"
As they passed the first of his multitude of throwlines and poles, John
leaned forward and peered down on the water.
"Look, Sil," he pointed at the long string of perch which floated to and
fro with the sluggish water. "Aren't they peaches?"
He made a motion as if to joint his rod. The cripple drew a sharp,
hissing breath from between thick, distorted lips and waved him away.
Silvey caught his chum's arm warningly.
"No use of fishing beside him," he asserted. "Don't you know that, John?
Brings bad luck to everyone 'cept himself, he does. I tried it one
morning. He kept hauling them in, all the time, and I couldn't catch a
thing."
John shook his head skeptically as they moved over to the other side of
the pier.
"He does!" reiterated Silvey. "Never's the day I've been out here that he
hasn't a lot. And look at that," as a shining, squirming object rose
unwillingly from the water. "I'll bet I couldn't catch one if I was there.
It's because he's hunchbacked, I'm telling you."
As John jointed his bamboo pole, he cast a furtive glance at the poor,
misshapen being, and caught a touch of Silvey's superstitious fear.
"Maybe," he admitted, as he reached for the worm can.
Hooks baited, the boys dropped their lines in the water and sat down to
dangle their legs to and fro over the pier's edge as they waited for the
first hint as to the morning's luck. Possibly a quarter of an hour elapsed
before Silvey's light steel rod gave a twitch, to be followed by another
and still another. Its owner jerked a denuded hook high in the air.
"First bite, first bite!" he shouted, for that honor was ever a point of
spirited contest on the pair's many expeditions.
"Hard?" asked John breathlessly.
"Hard!" repeated Silvey, boastfully exultant. "Hard? Goll-e-e-e, yes.
Didn't you see him? Bent the tip most a foot. Took the worm, too."
Then the jointed bamboo began to shake ever so slightly and John
leaned intently forward.
"Bite?" queried Silvey in turn.
"He's nibbling," said John cautiously without taking his glance from the
flexible tip.
"Wait until he takes the hook," advised Bill. John braced himself and
yanked a luckless perch high in the air. As it came down on the pier
with a thud, his friend sprang to his feet.
"That-a-boy!" he yelled exultantly as his fingers extracted the hook.
John brought out the fish stringer, and the unfortunate minnow, firmly
tied by the gills, was lowered slowly into the water. The pair watched
its spasmodic efforts at escape with a great deal of gusto.
"Ain't so small, is he, John?" asked Silvey optimistically, as he leaned
over and looked down from an angle which only a small boy could
maintain without losing his balance.
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