“Shall I?” said Dick, and he turned to Will, who was unwinding a stout cord from a square wood frame. “Why, you’re not going to fish with that piece of rope, are you?” he added, laughing.
“Yes; but I shall put on a fine snood. We’re obliged to have strong tackle out here.”
“Why, we fish with fine silk lines, and hooks tied on single horse-hairs in the Thames.”
“Do you?” said Will quietly.
“Yes, and little tiny hooks. Why, you’ll never catch anything with that great coarse thing; it would be too big for a jack.”
“We do catch fish with them, though, sometimes,” said Will coolly, as he deftly tied the hook on to a fine piece of cord by making a couple of peculiar hitches round the shank, the end of which was flattened out. This thinner cord, or snooding, he tied to the stout line, and on this latter he fastened a good-sized piece of lead formed like a sugar-loaf cut down the middle so as to leave one half.
“Why, you’ll frighten all the fish away with that!” cried Dick. “See how clear the water is!”
“Wait a bit,” said Will good-humouredly. “This is salt-water fishing, not fresh. We don’t fish like the gentlemen who go up on the moor for trout. But you’ll see.”
“Well, but,” cried Dick, in tones of remonstrance, “if you’re going to use that great hook you must hide it in the bait. Don’t put your bait on like that.”
“I showed him how, and that’s the right way,” said Josh with authority; and then to himself, speaking right into his blue jersey as he bent his head, “Mussy me, how gashly ignorant the boy be!”