At times, the pointed nose of a
muskrat wove its way across the river, leaving a shining ripple
in its wake. In the deep woods squirrels barked and chattered.
Frost-loosened crimson leaves came whirling down, settling in a
bright blanket that covered the water several feet from the bank,
and unfortunate bees that had fallen into the river struggled
frantically to gain a footing on them. Water beetles shot over
the surface in small shining parties, and schools of tiny minnows
played along the banks. Once a black ant assassinated an enemy on
Dannie's shoe, by creeping up behind it and puncturing its
abdomen.
Noon came, and neither of the fishermen spoke or moved from their
work. The lunch Mary had prepared with such care they had
forgotten. A little after noon, Dannie got another strike, deep
fishing. Mid-afternoon found them still even, and patiently
fishing. Then it was not so long until supper time, and the air
was steadily growing colder. The south wind had veered to the
west, and signs of a black frost were in the air. About this time
the larks arose as with one accord, and with a whirr of wings
that proved how large the flock was, they sailed straight south.
Jimmy hauled his minnow bucket from the river, poured the water
from it, and picked his last minnow, a dead one, from the grass.
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