“Yes, they kick.”
“No, they don’t kick. They can’t kick without legs, can they? They jest wiggle.”
“It’s all the same. It seems pretty hard to put ’em on those hooks.”
“Hard? Not a bit. It’s give an’ take with a fish. The big fish eat the little ones, and the little ones eat the smaller fellows. Now it’s only gettin’ what they tried to give, that’s all; and they can’t complain.”
Bob made no reply, and settled back into his former lazy attitude. Ethan still rowed slowly on, casting occasional glances at the lines, which the boys had apparently forgotten. But the fisherman knew what was unknown by the others in the boat, and that was that they were approaching a shoal, and it was not unlikely that something might happen here of interest to all on board.
Suddenly Bob sat erect in his seat and made a frantic grasp at his rod, which had almost been torn from his hands.
“Hold on, Ethan,” he said quickly. “My hook’s caught on the bottom.”
The fisherman smiled, but made no reply as he backed water and swung the little boat around in the current.
“Caught on the bottom, did ye?” he inquired sharply. “Well, that doesn’t look much like bottom!”