Not me; I wouldn't so
deloode--wouldn't play it that low on a fish. I goes anglin' in a
formal, se'f-respectin' way. I uses a short line an' a pole which is
stiff an' strong. When I gets a bite, I yanks him out an' lets him
know his fate right thar."
"'"But eels ain't no game fish," I says. "Bass is game, but not
eels."
"'"Eels ain't game none, ain't they?" says this yere Davis, lettin'
on he's a heap interested. "You-all listen to me; let me tell you of
a eel I snags onto down by Culpepper. When he bites that time I
gives him both hands. That eel comes through the air jest whistlin'
an' w'irlin'. I slams him ag'inst the great state of Virginny.
Suppose one of them bass you boasts of takes sech a jolt. Whatever
would he have done? He'd lay thar pantin' an' rollin' his eyes;
mebby he curls his tail a little. That would be the utmost of them
resentments of his. What does my eel do? Stranger, he stands up on
his tail an' fights me. Game! that eel's game as scorpions! My dog
Fido's with me. Fido wades into the eel, an' the commotion is awful.
That eel whips Fido in two minutes, Washin'ton time. How much does
he weigh? Whatever do I know about it? When he's done put the gaffs
into Fido, he nacherally sa'nters back into the branch where he
lives at.
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