Part 19 (2/2)

With one awful effort Jimmy tore the gripping hands from his throat a little. ”Lie!” he gasped. ”It's all a lie!”

”It's the truth! Before G.o.d it's the truth!” Mary Malone tried to scream behind them. ”It's the truth! It's the truth!” And her ears told her that she was making no sound as with dry lips she mouthed it over and over. And then she fainted, and sank down in the bushes.

Dannie's hands relaxed a little, he lifted the weight of Jimmy's body by his throat, and set him on his feet. ”I'll give ye juist ane chance,” he said. ”IS THAT THE TRUTH?”

Jimmy's awful eyes were bulging from his head, his hands were clawing at Dannie's on his throat, and his swollen lips repeated it over and over as breath came, ”It's a lie! It's a lie!”

”I think so myself,” said Dannie. ”Ye never would have dared. Ye'd have known that I'd find out some day, and on that day, I'd kill ye as I would a copperhead.”

”A lie!” panted Jimmy.

”Then WHY did ye tell it?” And Dannie's fingers threatened to renew their grip.

”I thought if I could make you strike back,” gasped Jimmy, ”my hittin'

you wouldn't same so bad.”

Then Dannie's hands relaxed. ”Oh, Jimmy! Jimmy!” he cried. ”Was there ever any other mon like ye?”

Then he remembered the cause of their trouble.

”But, I'm everlastingly d.a.m.ned,” Dannie went on, ”if I'll gi'e up the Black Ba.s.s to ye, unless it's on your line. Get yourself up there on your bank!”

The shove he gave Jimmy almost upset him, and Jimmy waded back, and as he climbed the bank, Dannie was behind him. After him he dragged a tangled ma.s.s of lines and poles, and at the last up the bank, and on the gra.s.s, two big fish; one, the great Black Ba.s.s of Horseshoe Bend; and the other nearly as large, a channel catfish; undoubtedly, one of those which had escaped into the Wabash in an overflow of the Celina reservoir that spring.

”NOO, I'll cut,” said Dannie. ”Keep your eye on me sharp. See me cut my line at the end o' my pole.” He snipped the line in two. ”Noo watch,”

he cautioned, ”I dinna want contra deection about this!”

He picked up the Ba.s.s, and taking the line by which it was fast at its mouth, he slowly drew it through his fingers. The wiry silk line slipped away, and the heavy cord whipped out free.

”Is this my line?” asked Dannie, holding it up.

Jimmy nodded.

”Is the Black Ba.s.s my fish? Speak up!” cried Dannie, dangling the fish from the line.

”It's yours,” admitted Jimmy.

”Then I'll be d.a.m.ned if I dinna do what I please wi' my own!” cried Dannie. With trembling fingers he extracted the hook, and dropped it.

He took the gasping big fish in both hands, and tested its weight.

”Almost seex,” he said. ”Michty near seex!” And he tossed the Black Ba.s.s back into the Wabash.

Then he stooped, and gathered up his pole and line.

With one foot he kicked the catfish, the tangled silk line, and the jointed rod, toward Jimmy. ”Take your fis.h.!.+” he said. He turned and plunged into the river, recrossed it as he came, gathered up the dinner pail and shovel, pa.s.sed Mary Malone, a tumbled heap in the bushes, and started toward his cabin.

The Black Ba.s.s struck the water with a splash, and sank to the mud of the bottom, where he lay joyfully soaking his dry gills, parched tongue, and glazed eyes. He scooped water with his tail, and poured it over his torn jaw. And then he said to his progeny, ”Children, let this be a warning to you. Never rise to but one grub at a time. Three is too good to be true! There is always a stinger in their midst.” And the Black Ba.s.s ruefully shook his sore head and scooped more water.

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