Even though the fish acted angrier than the last time Jim looked, he was holding up well. Was it really anger? Sometimes, Jim found out anger and sorrow looked an awful lot alike. He guessed it was because the two emotions were so close together. Somehow he was never able to confuse anger and laughter.

He took time enough to splash cool, muddy water on his face before he decided it must still be raining up about where he and Charles Ray hunted deer. The water was still rising.

He was glad now his friend stopped by and saw the condition of the riverbank where it was going to cave in anytime. Another thing he was thankful for was it was not raining down this far and ruining his fishing. He knew May Sue would try and make him come in if it came a good shower even. She was like that.

It was odd about Charlie, but he did not bother to move anymore. Maybe he thought Jim was his friend.

Well he would tell the fish if he could, he was not. One thing Jim knew was, he was no bleeding‑heart liberal from some big state university. He would cut a fish's throat just like he would not marry any Mexican.

It made him mad about Charles Ray being so wishy ‑ washy. Jim watched his father many times dress up in a white uniform with a tall pointed hat. His father always made sure his costume was straight before he mounted his coal‑black horse and went riding out into the night.