“They can’t worry me,” declared Tom’s country chum. “I can do queerer stunts in cooking than that. You just wait.”
“Well, if we’re going fishing let’s go,” suggested Jack.
The boys had brought their rods and tackle with them, and soon they had dug some worms, caught a few grasshoppers, and were casting in from some rocks and logs on the shore of the lake.
They had been fishing for perhaps half an hour, and no one had had more than some nibbles, when Jack, who was perched on a high rock, close to deep water, suddenly felt a jerk on his line.
“A bite! A bite!” he cried. “And a big one, too! Oh, fellows, I’ve got a dandy. Watch me pull him in!”
His reel was whirring at a fast clip, singing the song of the fish, and he was holding the butt, and winding in as fast as he could.
There was a splash in the water, and a flash of silver drops as a big fish broke.
“Give him line! Give him line!” cried Tom.
“Reel in! Give him the butt more,” suggested Dick.