Old John patiently sorted over the fish for inspection. The fat man selected four, which he carefully put in his green basket, and covered with leaves. He then waddled away with them and we drove on.
“I don’t never keep no ’counts,” said John, “but Dan’l’s got all them fish marked down som’ers, that ’e’s got from me, an’ keeps track of ’em. When ’e gits ’is money fer ’is patent ’e’s goin’ to fix it all up. Sipes says we can git slews o’ them kind o’ customers, an’ ’e wants me to quit givin’ ’im fish er else feed ’im on smoked ones fer awhile. He says if we try to fat up all the fellers we meet on the road, the fish’ll all be gone out o’ the lake ’fore we’re through, an’ ’e don’t want to be in on it.”
While Napoleon and I may have regarded the fat man and the green basket with some suspicion, John’s faith seemed secure.
We approached a weather-beaten house standing near the road. A middle-aged woman in a gingham dress and brown shawl stood near the fence. The nondescript rig had been seen coming. Travelers on the road in the back country are so rare that a passing vehicle is an event; it is always observed, and its mission thoroughly understood, if possible. In no case during the day were we compelled to announce our arrival.
“Got any live ones this mornin’, John?” she asked.
“Anythin’ ye like,” he replied, as he raised the lid of the box. A bargain was soon struck, and actual commerce had commenced. John put eighteen cents into a big, greasy, leather pouch, the opening of which was gathered with an old shoestring. He carried it in his side pocket.
He then gave the lines a shake, said “Giddap!” to Napoleon, and we moved slowly on.
“That thar woman,” said he, “has bin married to two fellers. The fust feller died right away, an’ the last one skipped off som’eres an’ never come back. She’s got that little place an’ ’er father’s livin’ thar with ’er. He’s got money in the bank som’eres. He didn’t like neither o’ them husbands, an’ now they’re gone’ e’s’ livin’ ’ere. She’s a nice woman, but she made it hot fer them fellers, an’ if she’ll quit gittin’ married she’ll be all right. That house we’re comin’ to now b’longs to ol’ Jedge Blossom. He’s a slick one. I had some trouble with some fellers oncet, an’ went to the Jedge’s house to have ’im haul ’em into court over to the county seat. We got beat in the case an’ them fellers got discharged by the court, but the Jedge said I owed ’im ten dollars. I didn’t have no ten dollars to spare, but I told ’im I’d leave ’im a fish whenever I went by, so I must drop one off when we git thar.”
We stopped in front of the house. The old man reached back into the box and pulled the slippery inmates over until he got hold of two that were near the bottom. When they came up they did not look quite as attractive as those I had seen in the boat. He climbed slowly and painfully down and carried them around to the back door. On his return he remarked that “them fish ain’t so awful good, but they’re a dam’ sight better’n some o’ the law that ol’ bunch o’ whiskers ladled out fer me over to the county seat. I never see ’im ’cept at the store when I go thar. The Jedge’s got a turrible thirst, an’ most always ’e’s soused. I gen’rally take the fish ’round an’ give ’em to the housekeeper, er else leave ’em near the pump.”
With another “Giddap!” we continued our journey.