Tying Down the Tip

I was leaning my fishing rod upright against the cot when—*clink!*—the top guide tapped the metal lantern hoop! *Gasp!* I dropped low, freezing dead still with both hands clamped around the cork grip. Silence. Just the crickets and the wind whispering along the canvas seams. *Hah—phew.* Moving with slow, measured breaths, I eased the butt down onto a folded wool blanket. Then, working with quiet, deliberate pinches, I wrapped a strip of soft red flannel around the blank and tied it neat against the wooden post. No slipping, no midnight clatter. It stands dead vertical and safe until dawn.