Both boys were excited as they viewed the prize, and Jock exclaimed,—
“It’s a pike, isn’t it, George?”
“Yes.”
“How much will it weigh?”
“Oh, twelve or thirteen pound. Look there, will you!” he added, as he drew from the mouth of the pike, which had been despatched with a blow from the hickory club, a part of the body of a large chub. “He’s the fellow who cut my bait in two.”
“What savage fellows they are!” said Jock, as he examined the bait which George had thrown upon the bottom of the boat.
“They are that,” replied George. “All these fish are regular tigers, and the bass are about the worst of all. Still, they’ll take good care of their own young ones. I’ve seen the bass form a regular patrol in front of some little bay or creek where the little fellows are, and woe be to the fish that dares to come anywhere near them! We’ll try it some more,” he added, as he placed a fresh bait upon Bob’s hook and threw it into the water.
But with the capture of the huge pike success seemed to have departed, and at last George drew up his anchor, and after bidding the boys to let out their lines, grasped his oars, and sent the boat out into the swiftly running current once more.
Again they were borne down the stream with almost incredible swiftness, and soon approached the bay where George had declared they would find their friends. And there they discovered them, trolling back and forth in the sheltered spot.
Their approach was greeted with a hail, and they could see Ben seated in the stern of the boat, even then reeling in a fish. As his friends came nearer he held aloft the prize he had taken, and shouted,—