"Oh!" murmured Russ again. "I guess I didn't understand. Let me see the
fish, will you, please?"

"You can look," said Frane passing him the cylinder of bark. "But maybe
we have scared him off, talking so much."

The big catfish, however, had not been scared away. After a few moments,
and with Frane's aid, Russ Bunker got the wooden spyglass focused on the
proper point. He saw the imbedded rock Frane had spoken of. Then he saw
the fish basking in the water below the rock's edge.

It was almost two feet long, with a big head and goggle eyes, and the
"whiskers" Frane had spoken of wriggled back and forth in the slow
current. Russ grew excited.

"Why!" he whispered to Frane, "I could grab it, if I tried. It is just
like what we call bullheads up in Pineville. I've caught 'em in our
pond. You can hardly get 'em off the hook without getting stung by 'em."

"Catfish don't sting you. But you have to knock 'em in the head when you
land them, so as to make 'em behave. I've seen the boys do it."

"I'm going to make a grab for that fellow," declared Russ.

"I reckon you'd miss him. You couldn't hold him, anyway," said Frane
doubtfully.

"I could so."