Several of the boys stopped at the back fence to beg
him to go fishing with them, but he gave them a laughing refusal.
"I'm after bigger fish than your little brook trout," he said, in a
mysterious way. "I've got my line set for a whaling big fish that will
make you all green with envy. You just wait and see what I get on the
end of _my_ line."
He chuckled as he spoke. The line he meant was in a sealed envelope on
Judge Parker's desk, and he was sure that it would draw the prize
which would be envied by every boy in the neighbourhood.
"I'll bet it's tied to a bean-pole," was the mocking answer. "Come
along, boys, no use wasting time on an old dig like Ab."
He stood leaning on his hoe-handle a moment, watching the boys file
down the alley with their fishing-poles over their shoulders, and
thought of the shady creek bank where they would soon be sitting. How
much pleasanter to be where the willows dipped down into the clear,
still pools than here in the rough furrows of the garden, with the hot
sun beating down on him. It was only for a moment he stood there,
longing to follow, then he fell to work again.
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