“All out now,” said Josh at last. “They’ll lose the school if they don’t mind. Look yonder.”
Dick glanced in the direction indicated, and saw that the man on the cliff was now telegraphing wildly with his boughs, and the men in the seine-boat seemed to let out a long rope, for there was a good space between them and the row of corks.
The two men in the little boat seemed to do the same, and as the two boats were some distance to right and left of Dick and his companions, it seemed as if they meant to come up close with them.
“Josh! Josh! the school’s heading this way,” cried Will; “they’ll lose ’em.”
Josh jumped down into the seat, seized the oars, and began to row steadily right across the head of the ripple, just as a hail came first from the big boat and then from the small.
Josh rowed about twenty or thirty yards, and then began to back water, going over the ground again, while the big and little boats steadily rowed on.
“They’re gone, Josh!” cried Will, as the ripple on the surface suddenly ceased.
“Maybe they’ll come up again, my lad,” said Josh. “I’ll keep on,” and he went on rowing first towards the large boat, then towards the small, as they slowly toiled on, trying to get nearer to each other and Uncle Abram’s boat, which was just about intermediate.
If they could once join and form a circle, even if part of it were only the net ropes, the fish would be inclosed, and instead of making for the unfinished part of the circle where there was only rope, they would avoid it and the boats, and make for the other side.
“All right, Josh! they’re showing again,” cried Will, for the dreaded catastrophe had not taken place—the fish had not gone down and swum away beneath the boats.