With a quick exclamation, Hen swished aloft the tip of his pole.
“Golly! but I had a big nibble! He took the cork clear under!” he cried.
You wondered fiercely why you couldn’t have a nibble.
As if in answer to your mute prayer, your bobber quivered, spreading a series of little rings. An electric thrill leaped through your whole body, and your fingers tightened cautiously around the well-warmed butt, which they had been caressing in vain.
“I’ve got a bite! I’ve got a bite!” you called gleefully.
Hen and Snoopie turned their faces to witness what might take place.
Then your cork was stricken with intermittent palsy, and then it staggered and swung as though it had a drop too much. Your sporting blood aflame, you bided the operations of the rash meddler who was causing this commotion.
The cork tilted alarmingly, so that the water wetted it all over. With a jump and a burst of pent-up energy (no cat after a mouse could be quicker), you whipped the heavens with your great pole; but only an empty hook followed after.
“Shucks!” you lamented.
“Aw, you jerked too soon!” criticised Snoopie.