“Yes, Mr Brace,” he said, “that spoon will spin splendidly, and I don’t expect the fish here have been educated so far as to know what a fish-hook is. They’ve a lot to learn before they grow shy of an artificial bait. Think that lead will be heavy enough?”
“Yes, quite enough to scare away a shark. What nonsense! I should put on something small and light. We’re not at sea.”
“I know that, sir; but just you wait a bit and see. Ease off that sheet a little more, Dan,” cried Lynton. “That’s better. I say, we’re opening up into quite a lake.”
“The scenery is glorious,” said Brace. “Look, there’s plenty of dense forest too beyond that open part we are passing.”
“Yes, and there’s the waterfall,” cried Briscoe. “It’s grand.”
Brace nodded and sat with parted lips, gazing at the grand display of falling water which was now almost directly ahead.
The whole river, which was very nearly half a mile wide at this spot, tumbled over a ridge of rocks which barred its passage, and dropped in places fully fifty feet with a dull murmuring roar which now began to be plainly heard.
“Are you looking at the falls, Lynton?” cried Brace.
“Not yet. I’m too busy just now. I want to get the line out first. There she goes, and good luck to her.”
He dropped the great spoon and its armature of hooks over the side, and Brace glanced after it, to see it for a few moments as the line was allowed to run, the silvered unfishlike piece of metal beginning to spin and, as it receded farther from the boat, to assume a wonderfully lifelike resemblance to a good-sized roach swimming pretty fast.