the water. Along comes a carp--the only fish that eats _worms_--and
starts eating. He gets so excited following up his links of worm-
weenies, that he doesn't notice he's up on shore, when suddenly Tod
Fulton, mighty fisherman, grabs him by the tail and flips him----"

"Yes--where does he flip him?" Tod had dropped his share of the
luggage and now had Dave by the back of the neck.

"Back into the water and makes him eat another string of worms as
punishment for being a carp."

"You with your old dead minnows!" exclaimed Tod, giving Dave a push
that sent him staggering. "Last time we went, all you caught was a
dogfish and one starved bullhead. There's more real fish that'll
bite on worms than on any other bait. I've taken trout and even
black bass. Early in the morning I can land pickerel and croppies
where a minnow or a frog could sleep on the end of a six pounder's
nose. Don't tell me."

"Yes," put in Jerry, "and I can sit right between the two of you and
with my number two Skinner and a frog or a bacon rind pull 'em out
while you fellows go to sleep between nibbles."

"Bully!" exclaimed Frank. "Every time we go home after a trip, you
hang a sign on your back: 'Fish for Sale,' with both s's turned
backwards. I'm too modest to mention the name of the boy who caught
the largest black bass ever hooked in Plum Run, but I can tell you
the kind of fly the old boy took, all the same."

"Testimony's all in," laughed Tod, good-humoredly. "And here we are