dazed the beast but did little to loosen its grip on Pike’s leg. Griffy and Gil grabbed Pike and dragged him and the semiconscious fish closer to shore. As the lake water receded around it, the muskie seemed to find a new life. It released Pike and thrashed out of control in the now knee-deep water. Its long, lean tubular body flipped and jerked in a fierce show of aerial acrobatics. Its fanlike tailfin and sharp side fins sliced at Pike, Griffy, and Gil as they rolled, jumped, and dragged themselves out of the crazed animal’s destructive path.
Then, out of nowhere, Spinner came running full speed down the Whispering Pines dock. In an aerial show of his own, Spinner leaped from the dock and flew through the air landing directly on the muskie. He sank his teeth into the muskie’s spine, partially paralyzing the beast. Its mighty tail no longer fully functioning, the fish rolled violently side to side trying to shake Spinner off. But the dog held on and actually seemed to enjoy the turbulent ride.
Spinner gave the kids their chance, and they pounced. Gil seized the cane pole and jabbed the fish over and over. Griffy clubbed it again and again. Pike, despite his injured leg, ensnared the muskie in fishing line.
When the massive fish finally lay lifeless, the kids and Spinner began dragging its seventy-pound body inch by inch to shore.
It was over.
Gil, Pike, Griffy, and the muskie—with Spinner nipping at its tail—lay together on the rocky shoreline.
“What the heck is going on here?”
Griffy looked up weakly and saw Andy Gibson approaching. He stopped at the top of the embankment, hands on his hips, and looked down.
“We can hear you guys all the way over,” he continued scolding until he saw them. “What the …?”
Griffy knew the scene must have looked ugly. There was Gil, stretched out and holding onto a double-eyed cane pole. There was Pike, lying on his side, bleeding and ensnarled in fishing line. There he was, hugging a club to his chest and chanting softly, “We got him. We got him.” And in between them was a prehistoric-looking monster fish—dead, dead at last.
Spinner barked wildly at Andy, placed both paws on the muskie, and hunkered down, guarding their catch.
Andy grabbed his walkie-talkie as he raced down the embankment. “I need the medics ASAP at the bay. And get Dell. Over.”
Master Fishermen
Griffy could hardly wait to see the morning paper. He and Pike huddled around it, both holding up a side. “Kids Dethrone Freshwater King,” The Minong Ledger ’s front-page headline proclaimed. The picture accompanying the article showed the five-foot, seventy-pound muskie winched high in the air by its snout. Pike and Griffy flanked “the King” on each side with Gil kneeling in front holding Spinner.
Griffy smiled broadly.
“Look at us,” Pike gushed. He blew on his knuckles and wiped them on his shirt with pride. “We’re celebrities.”
“Famous, even,” Griffy raved.
“Don’t let it go to your heads,” Gil admonished as she walked up behind them. She took a look at the newspaper.
“Wow, we are famous,” she gasped happily.
And their fame grew in the days following the muskie’s heroic capture. Griffy couldn’t believe all the people who wanted autographs or pictures taken with them. Everywhere they went, folks clapped them on the back, shook their hands, and asked to hear about their battle with the ferocious beast and to see their battle wounds. Griffy showed off the twelve stitches in his left arm. Pike, on crutches, received more sympathy for his stitched-up, bandaged-up right thigh.
Even more, to Griffy’s amazement, Minong organized its first Muskie Festival, complete with a muskie queen and court, in honor of the town’s newly proclaimed master fishermen. Taxidermists worked day and night preparing a replica of the giant muskie for the festival’s opening parade. Pike, Gil, and Griffy nervously watched as hundreds of people turned out and stood five
Then, out of nowhere, Spinner came running full speed down the Whispering Pines dock. In an aerial show of his own, Spinner leaped from the dock and flew through the air landing directly on the muskie. He sank his teeth into the muskie’s spine, partially paralyzing the beast. Its mighty tail no longer fully functioning, the fish rolled violently side to side trying to shake Spinner off. But the dog held on and actually seemed to enjoy the turbulent ride.
Spinner gave the kids their chance, and they pounced. Gil seized the cane pole and jabbed the fish over and over. Griffy clubbed it again and again. Pike, despite his injured leg, ensnared the muskie in fishing line.
When the massive fish finally lay lifeless, the kids and Spinner began dragging its seventy-pound body inch by inch to shore.
It was over.
Gil, Pike, Griffy, and the muskie—with Spinner nipping at its tail—lay together on the rocky shoreline.
“What the heck is going on here?”
Griffy looked up weakly and saw Andy Gibson approaching. He stopped at the top of the embankment, hands on his hips, and looked down.
“We can hear you guys all the way over,” he continued scolding until he saw them. “What the …?”
Griffy knew the scene must have looked ugly. There was Gil, stretched out and holding onto a double-eyed cane pole. There was Pike, lying on his side, bleeding and ensnarled in fishing line. There he was, hugging a club to his chest and chanting softly, “We got him. We got him.” And in between them was a prehistoric-looking monster fish—dead, dead at last.
Spinner barked wildly at Andy, placed both paws on the muskie, and hunkered down, guarding their catch.
Andy grabbed his walkie-talkie as he raced down the embankment. “I need the medics ASAP at the bay. And get Dell. Over.”
Master Fishermen
Griffy could hardly wait to see the morning paper. He and Pike huddled around it, both holding up a side. “Kids Dethrone Freshwater King,” The Minong Ledger ’s front-page headline proclaimed. The picture accompanying the article showed the five-foot, seventy-pound muskie winched high in the air by its snout. Pike and Griffy flanked “the King” on each side with Gil kneeling in front holding Spinner.
Griffy smiled broadly.
“Look at us,” Pike gushed. He blew on his knuckles and wiped them on his shirt with pride. “We’re celebrities.”
“Famous, even,” Griffy raved.
“Don’t let it go to your heads,” Gil admonished as she walked up behind them. She took a look at the newspaper.
“Wow, we are famous,” she gasped happily.
And their fame grew in the days following the muskie’s heroic capture. Griffy couldn’t believe all the people who wanted autographs or pictures taken with them. Everywhere they went, folks clapped them on the back, shook their hands, and asked to hear about their battle with the ferocious beast and to see their battle wounds. Griffy showed off the twelve stitches in his left arm. Pike, on crutches, received more sympathy for his stitched-up, bandaged-up right thigh.
Even more, to Griffy’s amazement, Minong organized its first Muskie Festival, complete with a muskie queen and court, in honor of the town’s newly proclaimed master fishermen. Taxidermists worked day and night preparing a replica of the giant muskie for the festival’s opening parade. Pike, Gil, and Griffy nervously watched as hundreds of people turned out and stood five
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