No sooner was it in the water than it began to swim, by expanding, and contracting itself with such facility that, but for the meshes of the net, it would soon have taken its wondrous hanging fringes and delicate soap-bubble hues out of sight.
“Better not touch it,” said Will, as Dick was about to place his hand beneath the curious object.
“Why not?” asked Arthur sharply.
“Because they sting,” replied Will. “Some sting more than others. Perhaps that does, sir.”
Arthur glanced at his father, who nodded his head.
“Yes; I believe he is right,” said Mr Temple. “It is a curious fact in natural history. We need not test it to see if it is correct.”
“Look, look!” cried Dick; “here’s a pollack like I caught. Oh! do look at its bright colours, father; but what shall we do with the jelly-fish?”
“Let it go. We cannot save it. In an hour or two there would be nothing left but some dirty film.”
The pollack was then examined, with all its glories of gold, bronze, and orange. Then there was a skipping, twining, silvery, long-nose that could hardly be kept in the net, a fish that looked remarkably like an eel, save for its regularly shaped mackerel tail, and long beak-like nose. Sea-bream were the next—ruddy looking, large-eyed fish, not much like their fellows of the fresh water, even what were called the black bream—dark, silvery fellows, similar in shape, bearing but a small resemblance to the fish the brothers had often caught in some river or stream in a far-off home county.
Dick’s eyes glistened with pleasure; and waking up more and more to the fact that the finding of fresh kinds of fish gave the boy intense delight, Will kept eagerly on the look-out.