Hoke Moore had paused and turned to look in the direction of the far-off mountains in the southeast—the direction he had given as the location of the valley—and he had added, “Must be big as a whale now, if it’s still alive. You just wandering around, you ought to go down there and try to catch him. You might can do it. Might can. You a fisherman, sure enough. I can tell that in any man just by studying him a little bit. If you go down there and you catch him, you look him in the eye when you drag him up and you tell him Hoke Moore’s been thinking about him for a long time.”

He had smiled, had said, “Yes sir. I get down that way, I’ll do that.”

“You got to take your time with him,” Hoke Moore had said. “Got to aggravate him some. Got to make him want you, much as you want him.”

“Yes sir, I’ve seen fish like that,” he had replied. And it was true. Even as a child, he had known fish liked to fight, some more than others.

And then Hoke Moore had chuckled and made another soft cast with his line, watching the hook disappear under the pull of the sinker. After a moment, he had said, “I wonder if they doing the fish-off in the Chatuge these days.”

He had asked, “What’s that?”

“What I call it—a fish-off,” Hoke Moore had answered. “Used to be on the river. Been going on over there for twenty years or more. Got started by the school as a way of making some money to pay teachers. First year they done it, they was catching fish fast as they could drop a line. Not much need to bait the hook, they was catching fish so easy. Had the biggest fry at the school I ever saw. You’d of thought Jesus had blessed them fish, they was so many of them. Everybody pays a dollar or two to get in on it and the man that catches the most fish by weight gets a cash prize. Used to be ten dollars. Guess it’s more now. When they get through with the fishing, they have them a fish fry and everybody in the valley shows up. That’s where they make the money.”

Hoke Moore had paused, wagged his fishing rod over the water; then he had added, “Won it myself two or three times.” Had laughed softly over the thought.

“When’s it held?” he had asked.

“Right along now,” Hoke Moore had answered. “July, August. Date changes about—or it used to. Tell the truth, I don’t even know if they do it no more. War changed a lot of things.” He had paused, clucked with his tongue, shook his head slowly, had added, “Had me some ups and downs there, but I miss the place.” He had gazed again at the distant mountains. “You just going place to place, you ought to head down that way. Get in on that fishing if they still doing it. Catch that fish of mine while you there.”