"I know him! I know him! It's Grandfather Pickerel."
"So do I know him," said John. "Just you wait till I get my hands on him."
At length Grandfather Pickerel's long, sharp nose appeared above the water. The big man stepped back ready for one long, strong pull at the right instant. The wary old fish opened his lean jaws to their full width, and brought them together with a vicious snap. It was at exactly the right moment. Once more John lay on his back with his heels in the air, while Grandfather Pickerel glided with much dignity into the depths of the pool.
"Now, if you had had my rod and reel," said Reginald, "you could have—"
"Your rod and reel be durned," said John, as he picked up the fish lying on the stones, and started up the bank with it. "If ever that old sinner gets hold of your rod and reel, he'll make toothpicks of 'em."
CHAPTER VI
Food never drops out of a clear sky. When the sky is dark with clouds, it sometimes rains toads; that is different. I have yet to hear of a barbed iron hook being concealed in the flesh of a toad. Insects and other morsels that float down the brook into the pool come to us in the regular course of nature, and may be swallowed without question.
—Maxims of Grandfather Pickerel.