Two minutes later Joe caught another bass, and before the sun started to set, he and Tad had fourteen. Joe borrowed Tad's knife, which was always razor-sharp, and knelt beside their catch.
"I'll show you a trick," he promised.
He scaled the fish, removed their heads and fins, and made a clean cut down the back. Deftly, needing only a moment, he worked the flesh away and left the bones. Tad knelt near by, watching and admiring every move, and Joe said patiently,
"Move a little away, will you? I'd sure hate to slice you up along with these fish."
Tad grinned and moved a couple of inches back. Joe worked on. When he was done he had only boneless fish, with all the offal left behind, and there had been no waste of anything. Joe smacked his lips.
"You cook something out of a fish when you cook the bones into it," he said. "Wait'll you try these."
"Maybe Mom will fix them tonight, huh?"
"Could be. Let's go find out."
Pete Domley's white horse was tied outside the door, and Pete came from the house to meet them. Joe handed the filleted fish, which he was carrying on a slab of wood, to Tad.
"Take these to your mother, will you? She'll want them soon if we're going to have them for supper."