“Are your hands fishy, Tom?” said Dick.
“No—I washed them.”
“Well, then, cut some bread.”
The next minute the pie was falling to pieces, the bread undergoing a change, and the ale sinking rapidly in the stone bottle. After which the basket was found to contain a certain number of apples, which were converted into support for the active human beings in the boat, with the result that the basket was tapped upside down on the edge to get rid of a few crumbs before the empty pie-dish and stone bottle were replaced, and the whole tucked away so as to leave all clear.
“Now, lads, I think we ought to do some wuck,” cried Dave, seizing the pole. “I thought so,” he added; “I knowed there’d be something here.”
“Eh!” cried Tom.
“Don’t you see?” said Dick. “There, that bladder’s fifty yards from where it was laid down.”
“Hundered,” said Dave, plying his pole. “’Fraid it’s another peerch.”
Dave was wrong, for as they approached the bladder it went off with a swift dart, and there was a swirl in the water which indicated that a big fish must be on.
A good ten minutes’ chase ensued before Dick was able to hook the line.