Siven pounds he'll weigh by the steelyard I'll wager you."
"Five, Jimmy, five," corrected Dannie.
"Siven!" shouted Jimmy. " Ain't I hooked him repeated? Ain't I
seen him broadside? I wonder if thim domn lines of mine have gone
and rotted."
He left his supper, carrying his chair, and standing on it he
began rummaging the top shelf of the cupboard for his box of
tackle. He knocked a bottle from the shelf, but caught it in
mid-air with a dexterous sweep.
"Spirits are movin'," cried Jimmy, as he restored the camphor to
its place. He carried the box to the window, and became so deeply
engrossed in its contents that he did not notice when Dannie
picked up his rat bag and told him to come on and help skin their
day's catch. Mary tried to send him, and he was going in a
minute, but the minute stretched and stretched, and both of them
were surprised when the door opened and Dannie entered with an
armload of spiles, and the rat-skinning was all over. So Jimmy
went on unwinding lines, and sharpening hooks, and talking fish;
while Dannie and Mary cleaned the spiles, and figured on how many
new elders must be cut and prepared for more on the morrow; and
planned the sugar making.
When it was bedtime, and Dannie had gone an Jimmy and Mary closed
their cabin for the night, Mary stepped to the window that looked
on Dannie's home to see if his light was burning.
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