“Hah!” cried Brace, as they began to race before the breeze, “this is the sort of river I like. Look, Briscoe, how clear it is. You can see the bottom now and then.”
“And the fish,” said the American. “Brace Leigh, I begin to think we’re going to have plenty of sport up here.”
Chapter Twenty.
Brace Leigh’s Sport.
“So we’re to think of the pot and pan as well as of our specimens,” said Briscoe, loading both barrels of his gun.
“I fancy we shall have plenty of chances for doing both,” said Brace, following suit. “How well the boat sails! Why, we have got quite a long distance from the brig already.”
“Yes, and we’re stemming a pretty good current too,” said Lynton, who was steering with one hand and taking out a stout fishing-line from the boat’s locker with the other. “But wouldn’t you like to have a turn with a spoon-bait as we are going along? I don’t know what fish we’re going to catch, but I expect there’ll be plenty of gar pike or something of that kind.”
“Well, you begin,” said Brace. “I’ll have a turn later on. I want to try for a duck or something else eatable, and to have a look at the country round about as well. I say, aren’t we carrying too much sail?”