Uncle Dick went straight to the doorway, stepped on to the platform, and threw in the hook, which seemed to catch in something and gave way again.
“Come, I had a bite,” he said laughing. “What has been thrown in here—some bundles of wire or steel rods?”
“Try again,” I said laughing, and he had another throw, this time getting tight hold of something which hung fast to the hooks, and came up dripping and splashing to the little platform, where it was seized, and Uncle Bob gave a shout of delight.
“Why, I never expected to catch that,” cried Uncle Dick.
“I thought it was some stolen rings of wire,” said Uncle Jack, as he seized hold, and together they dragged a great tangle of leather and catgut bands over the platform into the grinding-shop, fully half falling back with a tremendous splash.
“Cob, you’re a hero,” cried Uncle Dick.
“The malicious scoundrels!” cried Uncle Jack.
“Throw in again,” said Uncle Bob.
And then Uncle Dick fished and dragged and hauled up tangle after tangle till there was quite a heap of the dripping bands, with rivulets of water streaming away over the stone floor, and right in the middle a monster of an eel, the gentleman I had hooked, and which had wound itself in and out of the catgut bands till it was held tight by the mouth.
“He deserves to have his freedom,” said Uncle Dick, as he gave the bands a shake so that the hook came out of the eel’s mouth, and it began to writhe and twine about the floor.