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George Barr McCutcheon
twist the
pole in the more or less perfunctory process of "winding up" the line.
The young man looked on disinterestedly.
"Ain't you going to untangle that line?" inquired the old man, jerking
his thumb.
"What's the use? The worm is dead by this time, and God knows I

prefer to let him rest in peace. The quickest way to untangle a line is to
do it like this."
He severed it with his pocket-knife.
"A line like that costs twenty-five cents," said the old man, a trace of
dismay in his voice.
"That's what it cost when it was new," drawled the other. "You forget
it's been a second-hand article since eight o'clock this morning,--and
what's a second-hand fish-line worth?--tell me that. How much would
you give, in the open market, or at an auction sale, for a second-hand
fish-line?"
"I guess we'd better be gittin' back to the house," said the other,
ignoring the question. "Got to clean these fish if we're expectin' to have
'em for dinner,--or lunch, as you fellers call it. I'll bet your grandfather
never called it lunch. And as for him callin' supper DINNER,--why, by
crickey, he NEVER got drunk enough for that."
"More than that," said the young man calmly, "he never saw a cigarette,
or a telephone, or a Ford, or a safety-razor,--or a lot of other things that
have sprung up since he cashed in his checks. To be sure, he did see a
few things I've never seen,--such as clay-pipes, canal boats, horse-hair
sofas, top-boots and rag-carpets,--and he probably saw Abraham
Lincoln,--but, for all that, I'd rather be where I am today than where he
is,--and I'm not saying he isn't in heaven, either."
The older man's eyes twinkled. "I don't think he's any nearer heaven
than he was forty years ago,--and he's been dead just about that long.
He wasn't what you'd call a far-seeing man,--and you've got to look a
long ways ahead if you want to see heaven. Your grandma's in heaven
all right,--and I'll bet she was the most surprised mortal that ever got
inside the pearly gates if she found him there ahead of her. Like as not
she would have backed out, thinking she'd got into the wrong place by
mistake. And if he IS up there, I bet he's making the place an everlastin'
hell for her. Yep, your grandpa was about as mean as they make 'em.
As you say, he didn't know anything about cigarettes, but he made up

for it by runnin' after women and fast horses,--or maybe it was hosses
and, fast women,--and cheatin' the eye teeth out of everybody he had
any dealings with."
"I don't understand how he happened to die young, If all these things
were true about him," said the other, lighting a fresh cigarette and
drawing in a deep, full breath of the pungent smoke. The old man
waited a few seconds for the smoke to be expelled, and then, as it came
out in a far-reaching volume, carrying far on the still air, his face
betrayed not only relief but wonder.
"You don't actually swaller it, do you?" he inquired.
"Certainly not. I inhale, that's all. Any one can do it."
"I'd choke to death," said the old man, shifting his cigar hastily from
one side of his mouth to the other, and taking a fresh grip on it with his
teeth,--as if fearing the consequences of a momentary lapse of control.
"You've been chewing that cigar for nearly two hours," observed the
young man. "I call that a filthy habit."
"I guess you're right," agreed the other, amiably. "The best you can say
for it is that it's a man's job, and not a woman's," he added, with all the
scorn that the cigar smoker has for the man who affects nothing but
cigarettes.
"You can't make me sore by talking like that," said his companion,
stretching himself lazily. "Approximately ten million men smoked
cigarettes over in France for four years and more, and I submit that they
had what you might call a man's job on their hands."
"How many of them things do you smoke in a day?"
"It depends entirely on how early I get up in the morning,--and how late
I stay up at night. Good Lord, it's getting hotter every minute. For two
cents, I'd strip and jump in there for a game of hide and seek with the
fish. By the way, I don't suppose there are any mermaids in these parts,

are there?"
"You stay out of that water," commanded the old man. "You ain't
strong enough yet to be takin' any such chances. You're here to get well,
and you got to be mighty all-fired careful. The bed of that river is full
of cold springs,--and
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