"And that's rather a big worm to put on the hook," said Harry, laughing. "There, throw it out, and let's see if we get a bite. Are you going to fish, Phra?"
"No," said the Prince; "I am going to shoot. You can hold the line."
"Thankye, but I'm going to fish too. Throw out, Sree."
The old hunter's throwing out was to push one end of the serpent off the end of the bamboo stage, with the result that the rest glided after it, and with their guns at the ready the two boys waited to see if there was a rush made at the bait as it disappeared beneath the muddy stream.
But all they saw was a gleam or two of the white part of the serpent, as it rolled over and over, then went down, drawing the rope slowly out till the last coil had gone; and then nothing was visible save a few yards of rope going down from the post into the water, and rising and falling with the action of the current.
Sree squatted down by the post and went on chewing his betel, his two men by the brass vessels doing the same.
So five, ten, fifteen minutes passed away, with the boys watching, ready to fire if there was a chance.
"Oh, I say, this is horribly stupid," cried Harry at last. "Let's give it up."
"No," said Phra; "you want patience to fish for big things as well as for little. You have no patience at all."
"Well, I'm not a Siamese," said Harry, laughing. "We English folk are not always squatting down on our heels chewing nut and pepper-leaf, and thinking about nothing."