“Let go the line!” cried Alex.
“And lose it!” answered Jule. “Not much! Give me a hand!”
Case and Clay both rushed to the boy’s assistance, and with great effort a monster fish was landed in the mud. Jule was jubilant.
“The biggest catch of the trip!” he declared. “Who says I can’t produce a whale when I feel the need of a whole one fried?”
Case and Clay leaned back and screamed with amusement. Alex. looked on with a grin which was more provoking than the laughter of the others.
“Have all the fun you can,” roared Jule, “but don’t get gay!”
“Throw him back into the river!” Clay advised, poking at the catch. “That is just a big catfish, and no one eats them save the negroes! They’re tougher than the tripe at Bill’s restaurant, in Chicago!”
“I guess you won’t throw him away!” yelled Jule.
“All right!” Clay answered. “Take him to bed with you, if you want to, but kindly see if you can’t get a bass for our dinner. There are plenty of them in here.”
Reluctantly Jule started the catfish back toward his natural element, and the big fellow seemed to thank him with a parting wave of his tail as he took to the water. In a few moments he had a fine large bass, weighing six or eight pounds, and before long Alex. had a couple of ducks, so work was suspended while dinner was cooked and eaten. After the meal the work was continued until Case declared there were enough willow mattresses on hand to float a city.