Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

it so he could see “Thwack” would go the club, followed instantly by a pitiful squeal from the frog. Then Jim would make sure it was dead by whanging its head on the stick and Fred would give him the opened knife with which he’d cut the legs off. The latter he thrust into his pants pocket. Slop Slop slop we’d go tramping up and down the pond.  It was ridiculous.

     After each trip we came back to camp where we would replenish our fire and huddle around it, for the night had grown chilly. It seems to me we made innumerable trips. Perhaps not however, but eventually we got tired. Tiredness seemed to come all at once. About eleven o’clock we made preparations to go home. The moon was just setting as we were wearily tramping homeward along the Canfield road on the edge of town.

     Another trip was an all night fishing trip we made along the same creek.  Jim Groner