It was quite a long chase; the bladder bobbing and dancing away till Dave forced the punt pretty near, and by a back stroke Dick caught the line, drew it near enough for Tom to seize, when there was a tremendous splash and plunge, and Tom fell backwards.
“Gone!” cried Dick in a passion of angry disappointment.
“Gone!” said Tom dolefully, “and I’d nearly got him over the side!”
“Ay, that’s the way they gooes sometimes,” said Dave, sending on the boat. “Put the band in the basket, lads. Better luck next time.”
“Why, the line’s broken!” cried Dick, handing it to its owner.
“Sawed off agen his teeth,” said Dave, after a glance. “Theer, put ’em away, lad. He’s theer waiting to be ketched again some day. Theer’s another yonder. Nay, he hesn’t moved.”
This one was taken up, and then others, till only two remained, one of which was set where the great pike had been seen which took down the duck. One had not been touched, but had had the bait seized and gnawed into a miserable state; another bait was bitten right off cleanly close to the head; while another had been taken off the hook; and one bait had probably been swallowed, and the line bitten in two.
“We are having bad luck,” cried Dick dolefully. “I thought we should get a basket full.”
“I didn’t,” said Dave. “Nivver did but once. Here, we’ll tak’ yon last one up first, and come back along here and tak’ up the big one, and go thruff yon reed-bed home.”
“Big one!” said Tom.