"Oh, Jimmy, what is it?" cried Mary.
"Me cane!" answered Jimmy. "Me new cane from Boston. Didn't you
hear Dannie sayin' what it was? This little arrangemint is my
cicly-meter, like they put on wheels, and buggies now, to tell
how far you've traveled. The way this works, I just tie this silk
thrid to me door knob and off I walks, it a reeling out behind,
and whin I turn back it takes up as I come, and whin I get home I
take the yardstick and measure me string, and be the same token,
it tells me how far I've traveled." As he talked he drew out
another shining length and added it to the first, and then
another and a last, fine as a wheat straw. "These last jints I'm
adding," he explained to Mary, "are so that if I have me cane
whin I'm riding I can stritch it out and touch up me horses with
it. And betimes, if I should iver break me old cane fish pole, I
could take this down to the river, and there, the books call it
`whipping the water.' See! Cane, be Jasus! It's the Jim-dandiest
little fishing rod anybody in these parts iver set eyes on. Lord!
What a beauty!"
He turned to Dannie and shook the shining, slender thing before
his envious eyes.
"Who gets the Black Bass now?" he triumphed in tones of utter
conviction.
There is no use in taking time to explain to any fisherman who
has read thus far that Dannie, the patient; Dannie, the
long-suffering, felt abused.
Pages:
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195