"Draw it a little toward you, Bo; sometimes when they think its going away they make a rush for it."
Again the little boy did as directed, but without result.
"Lift out your bait and see if it's all right. Now fling it a little further toward the bank."
Bo lifted out the bait, which was still lively and untouched, and flung it far over toward the other shore. Then he waited in silence once more, but there was no sign of even so much as a nibble.
"Oh, pshaw, Ratio!" he said at last impatiently. "I don't believe you know anything about fishing. Either that or there are no fish in here—one of the two."
He had turned his head toward the Bear as he spoke and was not looking at his float. All at once the Bear sat straight up, pointing at the water.
"Your cork's gone!" he shouted. "You've got one! Pull, Bo, pull!"
The little boy turned so quickly that he almost lost his balance and could not immediately obey. Horatio was wild with excitement.
"Why don't you pull?" he howled. "Do you expect him to climb up your pole? Are you waiting for him to make his toilet before he appears? Well, talk about fishermen!"
Bosephus was struggling madly to follow instructions. He was holding to the dead limb like grim death and pulling fiercely at the pole with one hand. The fish must be a large one, for it swung furiously from side to side, but could not be brought to the surface. Horatio on the bank was still shouting and dancing violently.