mael,
for his hand was against all men. He took care of himself, was never
shut up nor handled, and led a wild, nomadic life.

Last of all came Fisherman Jones. He was old now and couldn't see very
well, unable to go to the brook or pond to fish, but he still started
out daily with the fine new rod and reel which the annuity had bought
for him, and would sit out in the sun, joint his rod together, and
fish in the dry pasture with perfect contentment.

You would not think Fisherman Jones of much use, but it was he who
caught Miltiades and made the Thanksgiving dinner possible.

The new barn had exhausted the revenues completely, and there would be
no more income until January 1st; but one must have a turkey for
Thanksgiving, and there was Miltiades. To catch Miltiades became the
household problem, and the heaven-born inventor set wonderful traps
for him, which caught almost everything but Miltiades, who easily
avoided them. Eph used to go out daily before breakfast and chase
Miltiades, but he might as well have chased a government position.
The turkey scorned him, and grew only wilder and tougher, till he had
a lean and hungry look that would have shamed Cassius.

The day before Thanksgiving it looked as if there would be no turkey
dinner at Todd's, but here Fisherman Jones stepped into the breach. It
was a beautiful Indian-summer day, and he hobbled out into the field
for an afternoon's fishing. Here he sat on a log, and began to make
casts in the open. Nearby, under a savin bush, lurked Miltiades, and
viewed these actions with the scorn of long familiarity. By and by
Fisherman Jones kicked up a loose bit of bark, and disclosed beneath
it a fine fat white grub, of the sort which blossoms into June beetles
with the coming of spring. He was not so blind but that he saw this,
and with a chuckle at the thoughts it called up, he baited his hook
with it.

A moment after, Eph Todd, coming out of the new barn, heard the click
of a reel, and was astonished to see Fisherman Jones standing almost
erect, his eyes blazing with the old-time fire, his rod bent, his reel
buzzing, while at the end of a good forty feet of line was Miltiades
rushing in frantic strides for the woods.

"Good land!" said Eph; "it's the turkey! Snub him," he yelled. "Don't
let him get all the line on you! He's hooked! Snub him! snub him!"

The whir of the reel deadened now, and the stride of Miltiades was
perceptibly lessened and then became but a vig