"On a plug?"
"Could of been. Tintsey thing no bigger'n your fingernail."
"That wasn't any plug."
"Must have been a fly. Was it shaped like a spider, with long rubbery legs?" I had forgotten about the fly that Mr. Nunnally had given me, until my friend the poacher made me think of it.
He wasn't sure about the fly. It may have had rubber legs. Again it may not. "I don't see good as I used to. All I know is it took some kind of big bass right where that boat is sittin'. How'd you get that boat, anyway? I thought they was kept locked."
"Mr. Nunnally unlocked it for me."
If I had been thinking, I wouldn't have said that. It gave me away. But I was rummaging among my tackle, trying to find the flies with the rubber legs, and when I looked up the man behind the tree was gone and so was his cane pole. I wish he had stayed around a few minutes longer. I would have given him the 3�-pound bass I caught not far from where he had been standing. Noise didn't catch that fish. Neither did the cigarette-twitch method. But a poacher and a rubber spider did.