Phœnix worked away bravely, the other boys looking on with excited interest.
He pulled his line in steadily and slowly for a time; then, when the fish seemed determined to run away from him, he let out a few yards; and when it turned and swam toward the boat, he hauled in the slackened line with great rapidity.
In this way he gradually drew his fish nearer and nearer to the boat, and at last it became tired, and he was able, with occasional stops when the fish gave a short struggle, to pull it slowly in.
Everybody gazed earnestly at the line, and directly they saw, rising from the water, close to the boat, a head as big as a dinner-plate. There was a jerk, as if the fish decidedly objected to poking its nose into the open air, but Adam, who was leaning over the side of the boat, ready for the work of the moment, quickly stretched out his arm and slipped his hand under the fish’s gill. Then, with a powerful effort, he rose to his feet, and drew out of the water a channel-bass, over four feet long, and weighing probably forty pounds.
The boys could not find words to express their astonishment and delight when they viewed this prize.
“That’s what a channel-bass is!” cried Phil. “If I’d known what whoppers they were, I wouldn’t have supposed we could catch one with our lines.”
“Your lines are strong,” said Adam, “and your hooks pretty good-sized, but if we were comin’ out o’ purpose for channel-bass, we’d have heavier tackle. But it would be hard work to haul in a feller like this with any line, if you didn’t play him right.”
After being pulled into the boat, the great bass did not struggle as long as some of the smaller fish they had caught, and he soon lay quiet and dead.
The boys rolled up their lines, for there were no more bites, and it was agreed that, having found out what a channel-bass was, they ought to be satisfied.
“Is the fish good to eat?” said Phil.