“Well, now,” he cried, “look at that!”
I was already looking, for before the old baits had gone down many inches, we saw them both seized by largish fish, which seemed to dart out of some lilies a short distance to our left.
“What are you going to do?” I said.
“Wait a minute and I’ll show you,” he whispered, laughing, and after attaching the bait, he brought down the floats till they were only about a foot away from the hooks. “Now then, do as I do. Throw your line out as near as you can to those floating leaves.”
He threw his own very cleverly, so that the bait dropped into the water with hardly a splash, and I followed his example.
“Too far,” he said, as my bait dropped on to a lily leaf, but the weight of the shot drew it slowly off the dark green leaf, and it glided into the water.
“I’ve got a bite,” said Mercer, in an excited whisper. “Hi, look out! Strike! strike!” he cried, for at that moment the white top of my float descended suddenly, rose again and then began to glide in a sloping direction along the edge of the lily bed.
I gave the rod a sharp, upward motion, and a thrill ran up my arm, as I felt the line tighten, and a curious tugging commence.
“Hurrah! you’ve got him. Don’t let him go into the weeds, or you’ll lose it. Keep your rod up, and you’ll have the gentleman.”
I heard all his instructions, but in the flurry of holding my first fish I did nothing but what, as the rod and line were both strong, was for the best. That is to say, I held my rod with both hands, and kept it nearly upright, while the fish I had hooked darted here and there, and tried vainly to make a dive down for the bottom.