“You have your milking to do. I don’t want to keep you from that.”
“My brother will look after the chores to-night. You’ve paid for this day and it belongs to you if you want it.”
“All right,” laughed Walter. “You row along the edge of those weeds yonder and by the time we get back to the place where Prince is I’m sure I’ll have had enough.”
“Just as you say,” said Dan, as he rowed the skiff toward the long stretch of weeds to which his companion had pointed. “Now look sharp,” he added as they drew near the reeds. “You’ve got the right time and you’ve got your pickerel!” he added sharply as there came a savage tug on Walter’s line. “It’s a beauty!” he shouted as a huge fish leaped from the water a hundred feet in the rear of the boat. “Give him your line! Let him have the bait! Don’t yank it out of his mouth!”
Walter did not respond as he did his utmost to follow his friend’s instructions. “Now!” shouted Dan, “give him a quick, sharp, hard yank! That’s right. You’ve hooked him! Now look out that he doesn’t get any slack! Reel in slowly! If he tries to run let him have line, only don’t take your thumb off the reel!”
The tip of Walter’s rod was suddenly drawn under the water and the boy in his excitement started to rise from his seat. “Sit down!” ordered Dan. “Don’t let him drag your rod under, whatever you do! That’s no way to fish! Keep a good tight line and your rod out of the water!”
“Who’s doing this?” inquired Walter testily.
“I’m trying to have you do it,” retorted Dan.
“Well, let me do it then! I’m going to save or lose this pickerel all by myself! You look after your oars——”
“Good!” broke in Dan good-naturedly. “Now you’re talking like a fisherman. I’ll keep the skiff broadside on and you can do the rest.”