The Mason County journal. [volume] (Shelton, W.T.) 1886-1927, 1900-03-09
Meeting "a Little Savage. !"
From "Just About A Boy"
WI S. PHILLIPS, in a new book
wv Just About Boys" published

WI S. PHILLIPS, in new book
wv Just About Boys" published
recently by Herbert S. Stoned Co.,
Chicago and New York, calls our
American boys Upright, interesting lit
lie savages, who love the woods and
wilds," and it is about one OF these
''little savages" that Mr.. Phillips tells
in his book in most entertaining
way. How he met his one particular
boy is told in the following first chap
ter of the book:
Once in the time that is now repre-
scented by pictures in the mental gal
lery only, l fished western stream.
1t was a pleasant stream, I remem-
Der, that dimpled in little waves where
the gentle south wind kissed the wider
reaches, and there were curious, wayy
shadows under the opposite bank
where the grasses hung down and the
cottonwoods spread their ample
branches to shade the water. Hidden
reefs made ripples in the current, cir
cling eddies behind the powders that
occasionally poked up above the water
furnished resting places for the big
blue channel catfish that took my min
now or frog with a savage rush like a
salmon.
The water was cool and clear, and the
fish that lived there were full of fight,
and such good eating that often wan
dered to this western river and cast
my bait.
True, it was mot all of fishing to
fish" in those days, just as it is now,
and l mixed my time between fishing
and watching the natural beauties of
the landscape.
On this particular day in June had
waded down the stream until the browse
of noontide was in the air. l was tired
of fishing and of fish, had fought great
blue-black fellows until, for once at
least, / wanted 10 more; so climbed
out on the shaded point of the little
island in midstream and stretched at
full length along the grass, resting and
content in watching the life I saw
around me.
Swallows came lacking along near
the surface of the river, darting up,
down and crosswise, as they feasted on
the insect inha bitants of the air. Fleecy
clouds fioated overhead and disap-
peared in space like phantom balloons.
\ saucy kingfsher flashed up from
somewhere and came to stop on a
nearby snag, looking for all the world
like part of the dead wood moment
after he alighted, and I forgot all about
him until l heard splash and knew
instinctively that another small fish
lacked wisdom, but had found it out
too late.
Bees, the only busy things in sight,
fumbled the yellow heads of few
rosin weeds that looked toward the
sun. The river people sang with Groom
ing voices f.l underwater song in the
hurrying rifles, tinkle, bubble, gurgle
the quiet swirl of the waters.
a splash up at the head of the rap
ids where ''the big one got away" an
hour before, another splash in the pool
below, and circle of overwhelming
rings.
A big heron stalked lazily along a
sandbar 800 or 400 yards down stream,
and the summer air made him as big
as an ostrich.
a soft patter of bare feet announced
the arrival of the boy. He had waded
across to the head of the island and
then came by land to the lower end.
He saw me and stopped short, hest
tatingly.
He was all boy, too, about IA or Is
years old. sturdy, bright-faced, ex-
ceedingly homely and clad in a straw
hat the worse for wear, a flannel shirt
wide open at the throat, leather belt
with knife sheath dangling from it.,
and-well, the rest of his costume was
mostly an expression of gladness. He
was certainly a picture of health and
youthful 'orneriness" as he stood there
in the June sunshine, digging one bare
toe into the sand and balancing him
self with long cane fishpole in an un-
easy way, and made a mental note
that 1 somehow liked that boy.
Hello, young man! Fishing, are
you?"
yep"
Catch anything yet?"
yep"
Where are your fish,"
Got 'em picketed out up at tn head
o tn liam. Git any?"
Yes, I have quite a string down
there" said, pointing toward the
water, where / had secured my fish.
The boy. walking down, dropped his
fishpole and examined my string with
critical eye. Got some good ones,
amt yeh?"
Eyes, pretty fair, 1 think, for half
days casting"
Il got bout that many, and I've on'y
bin out bout two hours. Run out o.
bait N come down here for minnies."
saw no net or other continuance for
securing minnows, so I asked: "How
do you catch your bait?"
"Seine 'em," laconically.
Where's your metz"
Over yonder," jerking his thumb in
the direction of dense clump of viii
lows. Got 'er cached sost I can git
1t when | want it. Say, gee! that's uh
dandy pole yeh got, amt it, n uh reel,
tool" he remarked, casting an admiring
glance at the old lancewood rod that
leaned against the bushes.
Yes. that old rod is good one; not
very handsome, but it has stood the
test, and | know what it will do"
Gee, wish l had uh pole like that.
Must be fun to see ole Balaam go with
all that line; men uh little Rastus d