Fred, in his usual impulsive fashion, tried to jerk back his line. The hook and sinker were caught around a branch. The shiner dropped off the hook and rested in a crotch of the branch. No fish ever was transformed into a bird so quickly since fishing was begun!
And while Bobby laughed, and held his sides, Fred jerked at the entangled line again and again until, stepping too far back, and pulling too hard, the line chanced to give a foot or two, Master Fred fell backwards and—flop! into the deep pool below the rock he went!
CHAPTER IV
AN EVENTFUL AFTERNOON
"On! oh! oh!—gurgle! gurgle! blob! Help! Give us a hand—"
Down Master Fred went again, and, his mouth being open, he swallowed more of the murky water of the creek than was good for him. He came up, coughing and blowing.
Bobby, although forced to laugh, extended the butt of his own fish pole and Fred seized it. In half a minute he was on the bank, panting and "blowing bubbles," as Bobby said.
"You can laugh—"
"I hope so," returned Bobby, turning to give his attention to his own hook and line. "Oh!"
Something was the matter down under that stump; the water was agitated. The taut line pulled in Bobby's hands.