The scene about them was the reflection of that within. A perfect summer day, with woods in the distance, and a silence interrupted only by the harsh cawing of the crows. The beautiful water glistening in the sunlight, and the gentle motion of the skiff as it slowly turned with the slightly changing breeze, increased the sense of absolute peacefulness. The roar of the city seemed like something unreal and something which they never had actually heard. Neither of the boys spoke for a time, and Bob closed his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. Ethan also was silent, but his keen eyes were seldom taken from the lines.
“Your bait seems to be goin’ up-stream,” he said in a low voice to Jock.
Instantly the lad sat erect and looked eagerly at his line. It did seem to be moving through the water, but as yet he had felt no tug, and could hardly believe it was anything more than the motion of the “chub.”
“Is it a fish, Ethan?” he exclaimed excitedly.
“Looks like it.”
“Shall I reel him in?” he inquired, as he started to rise from his chair.
“No, no!” replied Ethan, quickly. “Let him get the bait. If he swallows it for good and all, you’ll have him.”
All in the boat were now following the movements of Jock’s line. The lad had reeled out more, and still it was steadily moving away. For two full minutes the excitement continued, and then Ethan said:—
“Reel in now, a bit. Do it gently, and don’t skeer him. Want me to take the rod?”
“No!” exclaimed Jock, decidedly. “I’ll win or lose him myself.”