She took the coil of wire from her jeans, picked up a long, dead branch, and tied the wire to its end. In the other end of the wire she made a sliding loop. Careful to ruffle the water no more than was necessary, she let her loop sink.
The first fish she touched on the nose, and that sent all of them into another panic. But they all came back again, and on Cindy's second try, the loop settled nicely over a fish. Cindy jerked the pole, tightened the loop, and yanked out a wriggling bass. One was not enough; she thought she herself could eat all fifteen of the big fish if only she had them—but after she caught one more, hunger triumphed.
Carrying the two fish and her clothes, she waded back across the creek, dressed, and went to camp. She knew what to do. She'd cleaned fish before, and there was still grease in the frying pan. Forty-five minutes later she called:
"Father!"
"Yes?" Mr. Simpson answered.
"Mr. Brent!" Cindy called.
"What do you want, Cindy?"
"Come on! Dinner's ready!"