Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1896-08-08
IContirued next week.
: He CAUGHT AN EEL.
Good Luck Attended n Negro who Wns
Fishing for Another Man.

Among the crowd of spectators
watching q knot of fishermen on the
Troy line pier the other morning was
an elderly Afro-Americau, who wore an
antiquated plug hat, a long linen duster
and a pensive look. He was waiting
for the boat for Hayerstraw, and from
his occasional comments on the i'll luck
of the fishermen it was evident that he
knew a thing or two about entrapping
the finny tribe, although it Subsequent
" was developed that he wasn't an
adept at unlocking his catch.
Not even a nibble had agitated the
lines for half an hour, and the man and
brother occasionally vented his disap-
prevail of the piscatorial procedures
with a vigorous "Humph." Finally n
OF the anglers wandered across West
street to pilot a schooner across a bar to
a capacious haven. r~elinquishing his
line to the disgusted gentleman Of color.
Instantly a smile oyercrept his feat
ures. He quickly set down his bag and
umbrella, pulled his plug hat over his
ears, and slowly drew one of the lines
out of the water. Then he stripped the
hook, took a fresh worm from the bait
can, slapped it three times between his
hands, slipped it on the hook, spat on it
three times and tossed it overheard,
exclaiming three times:
"Cudgy. cudgy, cudgy.'
whats that?" asked "a fat fisherman
sitting near by.
That's medicine" answered the son
of Ham, adding contem2tuously: you
just wait"
The crowd waited expectantly. The
medicine was good, for in less than five
| minutes the colored man yanked a big
blue eel to the surface and flung him
with a flop on the pier behind him.
what did / tell you?" whooped the
black man excitedly. Seems 10 m
you people don't know nothin' bot
catchin' eels.'
"You amt got him yet. He's getting
away yelled the crowd.
The eel, which seemed all muscle and
resolution, was not accepting capture
passively. He twisted and wriggled
| about like a snake, and was rapidly
nearing the edge of the pier, when the
darky Jumped up and clutchcd him.
1t was a good attempt as the Polo
GROUNDS cTanke say, DuL Iesulteu III u
clean muff, and the crowd promptly
gave the player an error while it app
plauded the eel for q possible home run
or slide. Then the Afro-American
buckkd in for an uphill game. With
a mighty bound he leaped into the air
and swooped down upon the writhing
form of Mr.. Anguilla Vulgaris. with
determination shooting from his eye
and perspiration dripping from his
forehead.
For a minute or two eel stock took a
tumble, but vent up again, when the
vicinity became filled with eel, Afro
American, fish line, pole, plug hat.
duster and bait box in a hopelessly con-
fused mass that resembled nothing
quite so much rs an animated Thomp-
son street LAGOON for ne.
The colored mans eyes bulged until
they seemed likely to fall out as he saw
the eel slowly but surely slipping from
his grasp. A dockman came to his res
cue and cut off the cells heal with a
knife. This ended the struggle, and as
the colored man walked over 10 his boat
his pensive look returned and he sagely
remarked:
ats easy enough to catch cells, but II
takes more'n medicine to hang on to
'em."-N. Y. World.