Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 169: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE TOUR OF THE BOUNCING JUNK. liant dummy to pay the bill, why, not only good, but gooder. ‘You can use the worms,” says Joseph, “T’ll bait my hook with a grasshopper. But it won’t make no difference what you put on your hook, anyways. You wouldn’t get a nibble if you baited it with ten-dollar gold pieces!” I ignore the jovial Joseph, clap a Kings County worm on the hook and cast out. Even before he has his line ready, I have a little luck. I see the cork go six feet be- low the surface, and give a quick yank. I land a one-ounce sardine. I’m good, what? “Oh, William caught the first trout!” yelps the missus. Joseph takes one look at the infant fish, then rends the air with a loud cackle. ‘“ Trout—beans!” he bellers. “ That’s a common chub.. If they’s any trout to be caught around this water, JJ hook ’em!” ‘“‘ Blaah!”’ I says—merely that and noth- ing more. ‘““T got a real bite,” buzzes Joseph a mo- ment later. He starts to reel in and his pole bends almost double. I began to feel a little nervous, believing the fathead was about to land a four-pound laker. Not so good! He gives the pole a final yank—and comes up with a pip of a snapping turtle. Have a laugh at that! “Looks if trouts have changed their shapes lately,” I purrs innocently. “Be yourself, stupid!” he hoots. “ You can’t even hook a turtle!” Well, to make this contribution to the classics a little shorter, [ll say that during the next three hours me and Joseph catch ten minnows, six frogs and fifteen dead branches. We also catch a little rheuma- tism. “Trout ain’t biting around here,” he says, reeling in for the last time. “ Let’s go. I think this spot is a bloomer this year, anyway. We'll break camp and drive up to the Cascade Lakes. They tell me they got so many trout up there that they. ain’t got water enough to swim around in.’ And then the fun commenced! When we reached the Cascades, Joseph begins by camping on private property. We don’t discover that little item until we get A79 the tent pitched, dinner started and are about to snare the festive fish. Then a genial jinni looms on the horizon and an- nounces that he will give us five minutes to break up housekeeping. He also adds that said five minutes is exactly four min- utes and forty-five seconds more than he gave the last birds, without shooting. So we pull up stakes and move to the head of the lake. “If anybody tries to chase us from here [’ll crown ’im!” gloops the brave Joseph, though he ain’t got nerve enough to crown a king, honest. Dinner over and under, we start after the elusive trout. I make a line for baby Alexander, just to keep the little dear quiet. { put a couple of tame mosquitoes on the hook, set him near the shore and cast the line out. Joseph is the first to get a strike, just as a train comes tooting along the single track that borders the lake. He reels in and muffs the fish. “The durn whistle scared the fish offa the hook!” snorts Joseph. Tie that for an alibi, boys and girls! Suddenly I notice darling Alexander heading for the water, plumb on his tummy. He’s got-a deathlike grip on the branch’ pole, and there’s some jerking at the line, that’s a cinch! “ Quick,” for the baby! ‘eG I rush to my infant’s assistance, grab | him in one hand and the pole in the other and pull up. Believe it or not, the kid has a two-pound speckled trout dangling from the hook! “Da!” he remarks. ‘“That’s one for me!” I shout. ‘What d’ye mean—one for you?” Bloons the peeved Joseph. “ He’s in the family, ain’t he?” I Rolice “And you said yourself that I could get trout anyway, so long as I didn’t buy ’em. You were so sure that you could beat me catching trout that you put that in the bet, didn’t you? Then, as you did, stop welch- ing!” ‘Sure, [ said it,” admits he. ‘ And you can have the trout on your score, for all Z care. I'll fish against you and the baby any time!” — = velps the missus, “look out - oe Eomichbooks:.co