“But I shouldn’t like you to lose this un, lads. Theer, go on and charnsh it. You get well howd o’ the band while young squire untwisses the hook. He’s ’bout bet out now and wean’t mak’ much of a fight!”
Tom obeyed, and Dick, who was trembling with excitement, set the hook at liberty.
Meanwhile the fish was struggling furiously at the end of some fifteen feet of stout line; but the fight had been going on some time now, and at the end of a few minutes, as Dave manoeuvred the punt so as to ease the strain on the line, Tom found that he could draw the captive slowly to the surface.
“Tak’ care, Mester Dick, throost hook reight in his gills, and in wi’ un at onced.”
Dick did not reply, but stood ready, and it was well that he did so, for as Tom drew the fish right up, such a savage, great, teeth-armed pair of jaws came gaping at him out of the water, that he started and stumbled back, dragging the hook from its hold.
But before he could utter a cry of dismay there was a tremendous sputter and splash, for Dick had been in time, and, as the fish-hook was breaking out, had securely caught the pike with the gaff.
The next moment, all ablaze in the evening light with green, and gold, and silver, and cream, the monster was flopping on the floor of the punt, trying frantically to leap out, and snapping with its jaws in a way that would have been decidedly unpleasant for any hand that was near.
The monster’s career was at an end, though. A heavy blow on the head stunned it, and a couple more put it beyond feeling, while the occupants of the boat stood gazing down at their prize, as grand a pike as is often seen, for it was nearly four feet long, and well-fed and thick.
“Look at his teeth!” cried Tom excitedly; “why, there’s great fangs full half an inch long.”
“Yes, and sharp as knives!” cried Dick.