Fugen eBooks

It was the same when
he played the bass viol, but that was also a kind of fishing at which
he tried his luck in a roaring torrent of sound. Both forms of
dissipation gave him a serious look and manner, that came near
severity. They brought on his face only the light of hope and
anticipation or the shadow of disappointment.
We had finished our stent early the day of which lam writing.
When we had dug our worms and were on our way to the brook
with pole and line a squint of elation had hold of Uncle Eb's face.
Long wrinkles deepened as he looked into the sky for a sign of the
weather, and then relaxed a bit as he turned his eyes upon the
smooth sward. It was no time for idle talk. We tiptoed over the
leafy carpet of the woods. Soon as I spoke he lifted his hand with a
warning 'Sh - h!' The murmur of the stream was in our ears.
Kneeling on a mossy knoll we baited the hooks; then Uncle Eb
beckoned to me.
I came to him on tiptoe.
'See thet there foam 'long side o' the big log?' he whispered,
pointing with his finger.


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