Jock and Bob were assigned to one skiff, in which their boatman, George, was waiting. He was a young man of quiet manners, and his companions at once had a feeling of implicit confidence in him as he quietly greeted them. Ben and Bert were in the other skiff, and with their boatman, a much older man than George, were the first to leave the dock, and soon had disappeared from the sight of their friends as they moved swiftly down the river.
Jock and Bob soon followed, and as George rowed out with the current, he said, quietly, “You might as well put out your lines, boys. You never can tell what’ll happen.”
He rested a moment upon his oars, and after baiting the hooks with frogs, cast the lines into the water and, taking up his oars, again held the boat closer to the shore, and prevented it from moving too fast in the swift current.
The rods, as Ethan had foretold, were very different from those which the boys had previously used. They were short, stout hickory poles, and the reels were several times as large as the ones to which they had been accustomed. Indeed, they seemed like small wheels, four or five inches in diameter; but as Jock settled back into his chair in the stern and began to pay out his line, he could see that Bob, whose chair was on the other side of the boatman, was as content as he, and no questions were asked.
For a time the boys gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the morning, after George had declared that they had enough line out. The sun was now to be seen above the eastern horizon, and was flooding the earth with its glory. Birds were singing in the bushes on the shore, the sparkling waters were rushing on with unabated speed, and the beautiful skiff seemed to be a part of the scene itself, and almost to belong to the river. George was watching the lines of the boys, though they themselves were unmindful of them, as the boat was carried forward by the stream.
Suddenly Jock felt a gentle tug at his line and turned sharply about. The pull was not repeated, but as he glanced at George questioningly, the boatman nodded his head and Jock began to reel in his line. He soon discovered that something was pulling sturdily back, but he reeled steadily, and as he glanced down into the water, he could see a fish fast to his hook.
“Pike,” said George, quietly. “Reel him in. Be careful! Don’t give him any slack. There! That’s the way,” he added, as with a quick movement of his gaff he drew the struggling fish on board.
“He’s a beauty!” exclaimed Jock, delightedly. “What’ll he weigh, George?”
“Oh, four or five pounds, perhaps. You’ll see some bigger ones than that if we have any luck to-day. ’Tisn’t a very good day for fishing, though.”