“No more turtles come in this boat, do they, Hal!” vowed Ned. “Better to cut the line, and be rid of them.”
The boys now proceeded with their business—that of finding out what else their hooks had in store for them. Although the turtle was off, still the line swayed and sagged, denoting another catch a short distance ahead.
This proved to be on hook six.
“It’s nothing but a gar!” announced Ned, peering down as he neared the spot.
“Big one?” queried Hal, anxious for at least some consolation.
“No—just ordinary size,” said Ned, disdainfully. “What will we do with him?”
The gar was now lying on the surface of the water, beside the bows, only occasionally giving a slight squirm. Maybe he was tired; or maybe, as in the case of the turtle, he was waiting for an opportunity to do a little damage. He was about three feet long, and with his slim, round body, his wicked eyes, and his bill-like mouth armed with sharp teeth, he looked fully capable of taking care of himself. The hook was firmly embedded in the lower half of his long, bony snout.
Ned cautiously extended his hand, to try to release the barb—and the gar snapped viciously.
“I don’t believe we can get the hook out unless we kill him, and there’s no use doing that,” asserted Ned. “He’s too coarse to eat.”
“Fishermen break their bills, and throw them back again,” informed Hal.