“P’r’aps so,” said Will. “Maybe it was only the crabs that bit the baits off.”
And all the time he kept on hauling in the line and examining the hook till they were a long way on towards the farther buoy.
“Oh, I say,” cried Dick at last, “this isn’t half such good sport as—what do you call it?—whiffing.”
“Think not?” said Will.
“Yes, that I do. I should have thought you would have caught lots of fish with a line like this.”
“So we do,” cried Josh, “sometimes.”
“I wish you’d catch something now,” said Dick in a disappointed tone.
“Here you are then,” cried Will, laughing as he hauled on at the line; “a big one.”
“Where, where?” cried Dick, ready with the hook.
“Down below here; I can feel him.”