One of them, a man named Luther Myers, said, “You must have been born to do it, that’s all I got to say,” making Noah think of Hoke Moore. Hoke Moore had said much the same.

“He was,” Taylor declared.

All the men vowed to see him on Saturday at the fishing contest.

In mid-afternoon two men—Peavo Teasley and Moody Deal, both dressed in overalls fitting high and tight across their stomachs, both needing a shave, both having the look of a farmer taking a day away from the fields—arrived at the store with Howard Reynolds and his grandson, Matthew, and were introduced to Noah by Taylor, who called them sorry and untrustworthy, but the put-downs came with a smile and Noah knew that Taylor was fond of them.

Both men wanted to give Noah an order for catfish.

Both said Howard Reynolds had been talking about him, about his skill as a fisherman, and Howard agreed, saying, “They getting close to calling me a liar.”

“Sounds like you don’t even need bait, the way Howard was talking,” Moody said, and he snickered.

“Tell you what,” Peavo offered, casting a squinted glance at the sun, “Howard was saying he give you a dime a fish, but if you can catch me six river cats before sundown, I’ll give you fifteen cents apiece. You don’t, I get to keep what you come up with for free.” “Do the same here,” said Moody.

“Good Lord, boys,” Howard said to them irritably, “you couldn’t do that with a seine.”

“He’s supposed to be good at it,” argued Moody. “We just trying to see how good he really is.”

Noah knew it was a tease, and a test. He said, “I don’t know. It’s not long to sundown.”

“You got your fishing rod with you?” asked Peavo .

“Yes sir,” Noah said. “I brought it in.”

“Well, I don’t blame you for that,” Peavo said. “If you can fish like Howard Reynolds says you can, you better not let that rod out of sight. Somebody’ll be stealing it, saying the luck’s in the rod, not the man holding it.”

Moody laughed. He looked at Taylor. “Ain’t nobody that good,” he said.

Noah could see a flush of irritation sweep across Taylor’s face. “And I tell you what,” Taylor said. “He catches the order you just gave him, it’ll cost you a quarter a fish. He don’t, you get what he’s got for free.”

Moody looked at Peavo, made a little shrug. Peavo shrugged back, let his grin wiggle over his mouth.

“Sounds like a sporting offer,” Moody said. “Shoot, Littleberry Davis ain’t that good, and Littleberry’s the best I ever saw.”

“Littleberry couldn’t bait Noah’s hook,” Taylor said defiantly. “I been fishing with him.”

“I got to go along with Taylor,” Howard said. “Nothing against Littleberry, but I never seen nothing like this boy.” He looked at his grandson, winked. Matthew’s grin flew up happily.

Noah listened to the men talk, making the same kind of harmless quarrel that small boys would make over nothing more serious than which could spit the longer distance. After a time, it would call for a showdown. It was the same with men as it was with boys. His mother had called such boasting the mule-stubborn way the male half of the race had for playing the fool. Chicken-sense, she had scoffed. Gave proof that the male brain was half the size of the female brain.