Another trimmer, and another, and another, was taken up as it was reached, all these with the baits untouched, and the disappointed look grew upon the boys’ faces.
“I thought we should get one on every hook,” said Tom. “Ar’n’t we going to catch any more?”
“Why, you’ve got two,” said Dave.
“Well, what are two, Dave?” cried Dick.
“More’n I’ve got many a day,” said the man. “I often think I’d like a pike to stuff and bake; but lots o’ times I come and I never get one. There’s one for you yonder.”
“Is there—where?” cried Tom.
Dave nodded in the direction of the little bay they were approaching, and it was plain to see that the bladder had been drawn close in to the boggy shore.
“Oh, he’s gone!” cried Tom. “I don’t believe there’s one on.”
Tom was wrong, for upon the spot being reached the bladder suddenly became, as it were, animated, and went sailing along bobbing about on the surface, then plunging down out of sight, to come up yards away.
“There’s a niste one on theer, lads,” said Dave. “Yow be ready with the hook, Mester Dick, and yow kneel down ready to ketch the line, young Tom Tallington.”