“Ay, he’ve hed nice games in his time here, lads!” said Dave, grinning with pleasure. “I’m straänge and glad you’ve caught him. Many’s the time I’ve sin him chase the fish and tak’ down the water-rats. One day he hed howd of a big duck. He got it by its legs as I was going along, and the poor thing quacked and tried to fly, but down it went d’reckly. Big pike like this un’ll yeat owt.”
“And if he got hold of them with these hooked teeth, Dave, they wouldn’t get away.”
“Nay, lad, that they wouldn’t. He’d take a pike half as big as hissen, if he got the charnsh.”
“Well, he won’t kill any more,” cried Dick triumphantly. “Oh, Tom, if we had lost him after all!”
“I’d reyther hev lost a whole tak’ o’ duck, lads,” said Dave, shaking each of his companions’ hands warmly. “There’ll be straänge games among all the fishes and birds here, because he’s ketched. Look at him! Theer’s a pike, and they’re a trying to dree-ern all the watter off from the fens and turn ’em into fields. Hey, lads, it’ll be a straänge bad time for us when it’s done.”
“But do you think it will take off all the water, and spoil the fen, Dave?” said Tom.
“Nay, lad, I don’t,” said Dave with sudden emphasis. “It’s agen nature, and it wean’t be done. Hey and we must be getting back.”
He plunged the pole into the water as he spoke, and it seemed to grow blacker and blacker, as they talked pike over their capture, till the shore was reached, and the prize borne to Hickathrift’s workshop, where a pair of big rough scales showed that within a few ounces the pike weighed just what Dave guessed, to wit two stone and a half old Lincolnshire weight of fourteen pounds to the stone, or thirty-five pounds.