"I never use one." The Indian was standing with his bow and arrow, looking intently into the water.
"Just watch him," whispered Jerry.
After that there was little talking. Perhaps there was a little unspoken competition among the boys for the first catch. Now and then a trout came up for air, but for a while they seemed to be running the gauntlet of lines successfully.
Dunk's line caught on some floating weed, which he pulled out with a "shucks" of disappointment.
Finally there was a whirr and a splash, and Carl's arrow flashed into the water. When he dragged it to shore with his bow there was a fine big trout attached to it, speared through the head.
Fred and Hawke watched him with interest, but none of the others paid much attention. They had frequently seen him catch fish in this way.
"Hullo, there, Windy, what's dragging your line?" yelled Dunk.
Fred had been so busy watching Carl that he hadn't noticed his shaking line.
"More weed," said Dunk good-humoredly. But Fred fooled him by landing a fine trout.
Contrary to the expectations of most of the boys, Hawke did not make any particular mark as a fisherman. He caught but one fish, and that smaller than the others.