In a short time they passed round the school and lay before them.
With great haste, Frank unreeled his line, baited his hook and flung it far from him. Hodge followed his example, but did not let the hook sink far before, seeing a great splashing in another direction, he began to pull in. He had not drawn the hook far before something took it with a jerk and darted away.
“Great Scott!” cried Hodge, excitedly. “What a bite!”
“Pull him in!” said Frank.
Hodge obeyed, and the fish darted from side to side, the line cutting into Bart’s fingers with the fierce plunges of the finny fellow.
Up to the side of the canoe Hodge pulled the fish. The bright sunshine showed something white that darted and plunged in a mad endeavor to break away, and then, at the last moment, seemed to give up exhausted.
Then, being able to see the fish plainly, Hodge stopped, uttering a gasp of astonishment.
“What is it, Merry?” he asked, in a flutter. “It can’t be a white perch, for it’s too big.”
“Pull it in, and then we’ll see.”
But Bart had slackened at the wrong time, and now the great fish gave a flop and escaped from the hook. There was a flash of silver plunging downward, and the fish was gone.