“What is it?” cried Dick.
“A rock pollack,” replied Will.
“And she weighs ten pound if she weighs an ounce,” cried Josh.
“No, not more than nine, Josh,” said Will.
“Ah! well, you’ve handled her, my lad. Glad you’ve got such a good un, squire. You see we want strong lines and snooding out here.”
“I didn’t know you got such beauties as this close to the shore. Oh! I wish father and Taff were here to see it!”
“You must take it home and show them,” said Will.
“May I?”
“Why not? You caught it.”
“Oh!” cried Dick, who could say no more, and he even failed to think of having a fresh bait put on, as he knelt in the bottom of the boat gazing at his prize, whose sides were gorgeous with golden orange and bronze, darkening off on the back to a deep olive-brown, like sea-weed, while the lower parts of the fish seemed to have been rubbed with burnished brass.