Read Online A Far Piece to Canaan by Sam Halpern - Free Book Online Page B

about not getting the frog.
    â€œYou figured he’ll be waitin’ next time around?” I asked.
    â€œThey always come back. That’s one thing about a frog, he’ll always come back to th’ same spot, and we’ll get him if . . . Hey, looky there,” he said, changing to a whisper.
    â€œI don’t see nothin’,” I whispered back.
    â€œRight next t’ that clump of brush,” and he pointed to a dead limb that stuck out in the water and there next to a twig was the head of a frog. Fred took dead aim and let go. The frog let out a yurrkkk and flopped over on his back. He was a big one. Fred picked him up by the hind legs and walked over to a fence post and bam, bam, bam, he bashed its head against the wood until its tongue popped out and it quit wiggling, then dropped him in our gunnysack.
    â€œHit’s your turn, hun’ney,” Fred said, and grinned.
    I felt a little scared because frogging idn’t like fishing. Fishing’s easy once you learn it because all you got to do is get a worm on a hook and wait, but if you’re frogging you got one shot and you got to hit or you got nothing. Two hours before, I missed a fence post two times out of three and now I had to hit something about four inches long and three inches wide and I figured wudn’t any chance. “You sure you want me to try now? I ain’t had any practice.”
    â€œYou ain’t ever gonna get good if’n you don’t try. Hit don’t make no difference you miss, we got lots of time.”
    â€œAll right, I’ll try, but I ain’t makin’ any promises,” I grumbled, and took off in front.
    Yurrkkk, ker-splot, splot, splot and a big old frog jumped before I moved five feet.
    â€œHun’ney, you got t’ slow down. You ain’t a-drivin’ sheep.”
    â€œI was goin’ slow,” I said, kind of mad. “He heard me, is all.”
    â€œWell, keep low and sneak up.”
    â€œWhy don’t you get another one and I’ll watch,” I said, straightening up.
    â€œYou ain’t ever gonna learn watchin’. You got to get one or I don’t shoot another frog.”
    I knew he meant it, so I slumped low and started creeping along. We’d gone about ten feet and my back got a crick. I straightened up a little and something brown-green caught my eye about a foot away. It was a frog that made Fred’s look like a midget, just sitting on the mud, looking at a beetle crawling his way. I knew I had to shoot, but my arms felt weak, my heart pounded, and sweat broke out in my palms. Slowly, I raised the slingshot and pulled back on the rubber until my hand was quivering, then WHAM. The frog didn’t even yurrkkk . He just flattened and lay there, his whole head bashed in.
    â€œYou got him, hun’ney!” Fred yelled.
    He was a whopper. Must’ve been king frog in the pond. I felt great, and rolled it up and down my arm feeling the cold, puffy belly, while Fred was telling me how I ought be ashamed of myself saying I couldn’t do something when I got the biggest frog in the pond.
    That evening, when we headed up the path around the foot of Cummings Hill we had enough frogs to feed the whole Mulligan family, even though I missed more than I hit. When Alfred saw them, he let out a yell. “Mamie, come here and look!” Wudn’t half a minute before all the Mulligans was pushed in around us. We laughed and talked for a while, then I took off home feeling great. I’d just started frogging and come up with the biggest frog in the pond. I couldn’t wait to tell Dad and Mom. Berman’s was really fun.

9
    I pushed away from the gate and headed back to the car thinking about the joys of my youth, walking again through the area where the stock barn had been. The grass was ankle high and I stumbled over something and fell. When I got up I saw a round knob sticking out of the ground. It was green and