Mr Temple and the little crew of two were so intent upon the old mine that they paid no heed to the boys. Hence it was that Dick took the lead and gave his directions to his brother how to catch fish, in a manner that would have been heartily condemned by both Josh and Will, whose ideas of playing a fish consisted in hauling it aboard as soon as they could.
“Oh, you’re not half hauling it in!” cried Dick, as he grew out of patience with his brother’s fumbling ways. “You’ll lose it.”
“You be quiet and let me alone,” said Arthur quickly. “I daresay I know as much about sea-fishing as you do.”
“Then why don’t you haul in the line?”
“Because the fish won’t come, stupid! There, you see, he will now!” continued Arthur, hauling pretty fast, as the captive began to give way. “Oh, how nasty! I’m getting my knees quite wet.”
Quite! For he had remained kneeling in the bottom of the boat, too much excited to notice that he was drawing the dripping line over his legs, and making a little pool about his knees.
“Never mind the wet—haul!” cried Dick; and he hardly keep his fingers off the line.
Urged in this way by his brother, Arthur went on pulling the line in feebly enough, till the fish made a fresh dash for liberty.
“Oh!” cried Arthur; “it’s cutting my hands horribly. There—he’s gone!”
Not quite, for Dick made a dash at the flying line, which was rushing over the gunwale, caught it in time, and began a steady pull at it till the fish was more exhausted, and he could turn its head, when he pulled the line in rapidly, and the boys could soon after see the bright silvery fish darting here and there.