William Wallace walked through the town as though he did not see anybody or hear anything. Yet he carried his great string of fish held high where it could be seen by all. Virgil came next, imitating William Wallace exactly, then the modest Doyles crowded by the Malones, who were holding up their alligator, tossing it in the air, even, like a father tossing his child. Following behind and pointing authoritatively at the ones in front strolled Doc, with Sam and Robbie Bell still chanting in his wake. In and out of the whole little line Grady and Brucie jerked about. Grady, with his head ducked, and stiff as a rod, walked with a springy limp; it made him look forever angry and unapproachable. Under his breath he was whispering, “Sty, sty, git out of my eye, and git on somebody passin’ by.” He traveled on with narrowed shoulders, and kept his eye unerringly upon his little brother, wary and at the same time proud, as though he held a flying June-bug on a string. Brucie, making a twanging noise with his lips, had shot forth again, and he was darting rapidly everywhere at once, delighted and tantalized, running in circles around William Wallace, pointing to his fish. A frown of pleasure like the print of a bird’s foot was stamped between his faint brows, and he trotted in some unknown realm of delight.

“Did you ever see so many fish?” said the people in Dover.

“How much are your fish, mister?”

“Would you sell your fish?”

“Is that all the fish in Pearl River?”

“How much you sell them all for? Everybody’s?”

“Three dollars,” said William Wallace suddenly, and loud.

The Malones were upon him and shouting, but it was too late.

And just as William Wallace was taking the money in his hand, Hazel’s mother walked solidly out of her front door and saw it.

“You can’t head her mother off,” said Virgil. “Here she comes in full bloom.”

But William Wallace turned his back on her, that was all, and on everybody, for that matter, and that was the breaking-up of the party.

Just as the sun went down, Doc climbed his back steps, sat in his chair on the back porch where he sat in the evenings, and lighted his pipe. William Wallace hung out the net and came back and Virgil was waiting for him, so they could say good evening to Doc.

“All in all,” said Doc, when they came up, “I’ve never been on a better river-dragging, or seen better behavior. If it took catching catfish to move the Rock of Gibraltar, I believe this outfit could move it.”

“Well, we didn’t catch Hazel,” said Virgil.

“What did you say?” asked Doc.

“He don’t really pay attention,” said Virgil. “I said, ‘We didn’t catch Hazel.’”