there?" cried Joe's mother, as the boy entered the kitchen, carrying me in one hand and dragging the fish after him with the other. She seemed to be a little afraid of the young fisherman's prize, and that was hardly to be wondered at, for his mouth was open, and it was full of long, sharp teeth.
"It's the biggest muskalonge that was ever caught in this lake," replied Joe, as he laid me down upon a chair and took both hands to deposit his fish upon the table. "Didn't he fight, though? I say, Uncle Joe," he added, addressing himself to a dignified gentleman in spectacles, who just then came into the room with the morning's paper in his hand, "I shall not need that new split bamboo you promised me for my birthday, though I thank you for your kind offer, all the same. This old rod is good for at least one more summer on Indian Lake. There is plenty of back-bone left in him yet."
Uncle Joe was a rich old bachelor and very fond of his namesake, Joe Wayring, on whom he lavished all the affection he would have given to his own children, if he had had any.
