Not a word of friendly banter crossed the river. They cast until
the Bass grew suspicious, and would not rise to the bait; then
they fished deep. Then they cast again. If Jimmy fell into
trouble with his reel, Dannie had the honesty to stop fishing
until it worked again, but he spent the time burrowing for grubs
until his hands resembled the claws of an animal. Sometimes they
sat, and still- fished. Sometimes, they warily slipped along the
bank, trailing bait a few inches under water. Then they would
cast and skitter by turns.
The Kingfisher struck his stump, and tilted on again. His mate,
and their family of six followed in his lead, so that their
rattle was almost constant. A fussy little red-eyed vireo asked
questions, first of Jimmy, and then crossing the river besieged
Dannie, but neither of the stern-faced fishermen paid it any
heed. The blackbirds swung on the rushes, and talked over the
season. As always, a few crows cawed above the deep woods, and
the chewinks threshed about among the dry leaves. A band of larks
were gathering for migration, and the frosty air was vibrant with
their calls to each other.
Killdeers were circling above them in flocks. A half dozen robins
gathered over a wild grapevine, and chirped cheerfully, as they
pecked at the frosted fruit.
Pages:
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212