“Well, he bores around a while in the hole he has dug; then all at once he sets back like a hoss when there’s a big steer on the other end of the rope; and you know then he’s got a-holt of one of them big worms. The more he pulls, the more the worm stretches. If he lets up the least bit, the worm jerks his head and neck back into the hole. I seen one once a-bobbin’ up and down like that for two hours and fifteen minutes before he finally got his worm. “Well, he pulls and tussles and yanks and jerks, and finally the worm jest can’t stand it no longer and has to let go. He shoots out jest like a nigger-shooter when you turn it loose, and like as not he hits the milamo in the eye. But he’s a good-natured bird and don’t git ringy about it. Jest why he does it, I don’t know; maybe he’s so glad to git the worm out, or maybe he sees the joke’s on him, after all; anyhow, when the worm comes out and hits him in the eye, he jest naturally gits tickled and rears back on his hind legs and laughs through his beak so you can hear him a mile or more.” “I see,” said Lanky. “A strange bird.” “But mighty shy,” replied Hank, “mighty shy.” “Yeah, they’re shy critters all right,” agreed Joe, “but they ain’t near as shy as the whiffle-pooffle. Why, them things is so bashful they don’t feel comfortable unless they’re hid in the bottom of a bottomless lake.” “Are they a fish?” asked Lanky. “Not exactly a fish,” explained Joe, “a sort of cross, I reckon, between an eel and a gila monster.” “Are there any around here?” asked Lanky. “Well, maybe,” replied Joe; “maybe a few. Still I doubt it. You see right around here the lakes go dry sometimes in the dry season, and the whiffle-pooffle wants water, and plenty of it, _mucha agua_. Still there may be a few. Out in the Roswell country, they used to be numerous. Also in Toyah Creek and Leon waterholes. I expect, though, they’re gittin’ scerce out in them parts now. All game is gittin’ scerce. Still, them critters is mighty hard to ketch, and it’s jest a few that knows how to do it. Mighty few in fact.” “Do people fish for them, then?” asked Lanky. “Some does,” replied Joe, “but it ain’t no use to fish for ’em with a regular fishin’ outfit. I’ve seen them rich dudes from the East come out with their fine tackle, rods and reels and all that fool finery, and fish and fish for ’em all day long and never git a nibble. Still they can be caught.” “How does one catch them?” asked Lanky. “So far as I know it was Pecos Bill that discovered the method. Durin’ Pecos Bill’s time there was a lot of people that didn’t believe there was any sech animal as the whiffle-pooffle livin’ in the bottom of the lakes. Bill said he knowed there was, and he’d show ’em. So he studied and studied, and finally he found a way to capture the critters. First he gits together a rowboat, a long post-hole auger, and a can of oil. Then he hunts up the funniest story-teller he can find and takes him along and sets out.