There was a quick bob of the float, and then it began to glide along the top of the water, while, as Bob skilfully checked it, there was a quick rushing to and fro, two or three minutes’ hard fight, and a half-pound trout was drawn alongside, and hoisted into the boat.
“That’s the way I doos it,” said Bob, whose success suddenly turned him quite amiable. “Fish will take a caterpillar sometimes. Give us another!”
The bait was passed along to the fisherman, who threw out, and in five minutes was again successful, drawing in, after a short struggle, a nice little chub.
After that, it was as if the disturbance of the water had driven the fish away, and though Bob tried in every direction, using the caterpillar, a worm, a bit of bread paste, and a scrap of cheese, he could not get another bite.
Bob tried after that till he was tired, but no fish would bite, so he handed the rod to Dexter, who also fished for some time in vain, when a removal was determined upon; but though they tried place after place there were no more bites, and hunger having asserted itself once more, they landed to prepare their dinner.
The place chosen was very solitary, being where the river ran deeply beneath a high limestone cliff, and landing, a few sticks were soon gathered together ready for a fire.
“But we have no matches,” said Dexter.
“You mean you ain’t got none,” sneered Bob, taking a box out of his pocket. “I’m captain, and captains always thinks of these things. Now then, clean them fish, while I lights this fire. Got a knife, ain’t yer!”
Dexter had a knife, and he opened it and proceeded to perform the rather disgusting task, while Bob lay down and began blowing at the fire to get it into a blaze.
That fish-cleaning was very necessary, but somehow it did not add to the charm of the alfresco preparations; and Dexter could not help thinking once how uncomfortable it would be if it came on to rain and put out the fire.