OCR Text |
Show NOT FOR THE MULTITUDES Where's the fish, daddy? Where's the fish? Didn't you ketch any; wasn't there any water? didn't you have your fishing pole? These were the pointed questions put by a lad of tender years upon the return of his pater from a journey jour-ney to Utah lake. The aforesaid pater, pa-ter, Ira Overfelt, was accompanied by George Francis, C. M. Edwards, L. Ludvigson, Fred Jones and Julius Duggins all of whom boast of their ability as expert anglemen, motored more than 150 miles in the hopes of landing all the law would allow them to take of the succulent catfish. The fishermen were willing but there was only one fish, a tiny one and evidently evident-ly without frineds that had an inclination incli-nation to pass from the briny deep, This tiny fish took the hook Duggins Dug-gins had planted and that's that. Alibis ? Plenty of them. Old man Boreas and Jupiter Bluvius were cutting cut-ting pranks all day washing1 waves skyward and drenching the Ninlucky fishermen to the skin. There are no fish for sale. |