“Come over here, fellows; I want to show you something. You come, too, Hank,” he added; and in a moment he led the way to the place where the monstrous fish had been covered with grass.
As he removed the covering and the great head of the muscallonge was seen, Ben exclaimed in astonishment, “What! What’s that?”
“That,” replied Jock, gently, “is our prize fish, or rather it’s Bob’s, for he caught it out here in this bay.”
“Is it a muscallonge?” inquired Bert.
“That’s what George calls it, I believe. I’m not very familiar with the names of the fish hereabouts, but that’ll do as well as any other, I fancy.”
For a moment the boys all crowded about the place, eagerly examining the prize, and making many comments in their enthusiasm. Hank, however, had not spoken, and after his first glimpse of the great fish, turned away his head and pretended to be gazing out over the near-by St. Lawrence. George, too, affected an air of indifference, which he was far from feeling, and which an occasional keen glance at his rival boatman betrayed.
“I say, Hank,” called Bob, “did you ever see a bigger fish than that caught here?”
“Lots o’ times,” responded the boatman, coldly.
“Did you ever catch a bigger one?” persisted Bob, evidently enjoying the jealous rage of the elder boatman.
“Ho! Lots of times. And when I catch ’em, I catch ’em, too!” he added meaningly.