Mozart and Leadbelly (Vintage Contemporaries) by Gaines Ernest J

Author:Gaines, Ernest J. [Gaines, Ernest J.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2007-12-18T05:00:00+00:00

THE TURTLES

When we got to Mr. James’s house, my old man leaned the fishing poles against the fence and we went into the yard. Mr. James and Benny were sitting on the porch. Mr. James was fanning his face with his straw hat.

“It’s coming down,” my old man said. He put his foot on the step and leaned upon one knee. “You and Benny about ready?”

“Aren’t you and Max going to rest awhile?” Mr. James asked.

“Better not stop too long,” my old man said. “You don’t feel like starting again.”’

“I see what you mean,” Mr. James said. “Get the poles, Benny.”

“You want me to wake up Ma and tell her we’re going?” Benny asked.

“She knows we’re going,” Mr. James said.

Benny went inside and got his hat, then he got the fishing poles from beside the house. He got the can of worms from under the steps where he kept them cool and moist, and we started out for Gillman’s Lake. Gillman’s Lake was about two miles from Mr. James’s house, and we made it over there way inside of an hour.

It was quiet and cool around the lake, and the lake was as smooth and shiny as a clean mirror. Looked like you could lie on top of it, or walk on it, and not go under and get wet. There wasn’t a bubble or a ripple on it, and a few leaves from the trees slept on top of it like cocoons on a twig. I felt like diving in with all my clothes on and swimming from one side to the other.

“Find yourself a can and bring me half of the worms, Max,” my old man said.

I found a can down at the water where somebody had left it, and put about half of the worms in it. I gave my old man the other half, then I got my line. Benny and Mr. James divided their bait, then Benny and I moved down the lake to find a good spot to fish. We moved about a hundred yards from where my old man and Mr. James were, to a dead tree that had fallen out on the lake. We walked out on the tree—that is, I walked out on the tree. Benny crawled out on it, like he was afraid he might fall and get his clothes wet. I was hoping my foot might slip so I could fall in.

Benny and I sat sideways on the tree, and I could see my old man and Mr. James sitting down on the bank farther up the lake. They were talking and looking out at the lake.

“There’s no fishes out here,” Benny said.

“Give them time,’’ I said.

Benny had a big stopper on his line because he didn’t know how to fish too good, and the stopper lay on top of the water, leaning a little to the back, like it was waiting for something to grab the hook and pull on the line so it could dip right under.

“We’re going to the baseball game next Sunday,” I told Benny.

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