CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.
CUSTER'S IDOL FALLS Early that same night Mr.Shrimplin, taking Custer with him, had driven out into the country.

Their destination was a spot far down the river where catfish were supposed to abound, for Izaak Walton's gentle art was the little lamplighter's favorite recreation.

After leaving Mount Hope they jogged along the dusty country road for some two miles, then turning from it into a little-traveled lane they soon came out upon a great sweeping bend of the stream.
"I don't know about this, Custer," said Mr.Shrimplin, with a doubtful shake of the head, as he drew rein.

"She's way up.

I had no idea she was way up like this; I guess though we can't do no better than to chance it, catfish is a muddy-water fish, anyhow." He tied wild Bill to a blasted sycamore, and then, while he cut poles from the willow bushes that grew along the bank, Custer built a huge bonfire, by the light of which they presently angled with varying fortunes.
"I reckon not many people but me knows about this fishing-hole!" said Shrimplin, as he cast his baited hook into the water.
"Where did you learn to fish ?" asked Custer, thirsting for that wisdom his father was so ready to impart.
"I guess you'd call it a natural gift in my case, son," said the little lamplighter modestly.