“Aw, those are not fish,” Jule exclaimed, “they’re alligators!”
“Whatever they are,” Alex grinned, “I didn’t let ’em get away with me! They ducked me, but they didn’t get away!”
“Well,” Clay said in a moment, observing that the lines had ceased to move about in the water, “your fish must be pretty well tired out by this time, so we’ll take them ashore.”
“All right!” Alex replied. “While you’re towing them to a shallow place, I’ll go and get on some dry clothes.”
When at last the motor boat drew the hooks and the sinker to a shallow spot on the Kentucky side, the boys saw two monstrous catfish squirming weakly. In grabbing for the raw beef with which the hooks had been baited, they had been caught far back in the jaws, so no amount of pulling could have released them.
“They’re alive yet!” shouted Jule.
“I’ll fix that in a minute!” Alex declared, appearing on deck in a dry suit. “I’ll administer a couple of lead pills which will cure the ills of life.”
“Hear him talk Shakespeare!” jeered Jule.
Alex considered this remark too immaterial to notice. He leveled his automatic at the fish and fired a volley at their heads.
“Now, where’s that derrick?” asked Case.