Will had been rowing, but he now handed the oar to Josh, unhooked the mackerel, killed it by a blow or two on the head, and then, to Dick’s astonishment and horror, took out his sharp jack-knife and sliced off a long narrow piece of the silvery-skinned fish close to the tail.
“Oh, what a pity!” cried Dick. “I say!”
“You must have a good bait,” said Will quietly, “and a lask from a mackerel’s tail—”
“A what?”
“A long thin piece like this—we call it a lask—is one of the best baits you can have.”
“But it seemed such a pity to cut that beautiful fish.”
“Catch another,” said Will laughing; and he threw the newly-baited hook over the side, where, as the lead dragged it down into the clear water, Dick could see it dart out of sight, looking like a small silvery fish.
“Why, how quick a mackerel must be to catch that as it goes through the water!” he said.
“Quick as lightning,” said Josh. “There, you’ve got him again.”
“So I have,” cried Dick, hauling in rapidly now, as the result of his teaching, and bringing in another mackerel larger than the first.