“You poor boob,” said Bob. “How can you get the fish way over there? There are a dozen bushes between us.”
“Swing your rod around this way,” called Bill.
“Come closer, I am not fishing with a telegraph pole.”
“Give me time,” said Bill. “This bank is slippery and I am liable to get wet.”
“Hurry up,” answered Bob. “I can’t keep working this fish forever.”
Once more the fish gave a violent pull on the line and Bob had to give it more line. Then he had the job of gradually reeling in the line as fast as he could while the fish darted around in large circles in the water. Once it made straight for the old tree trunk and both young aviators were sure that the line would get afoul of one of the branches, but by careful manipulation Bob managed to get the fish back into open water.
Bill meanwhile worked his way along the bank toward Bob. The point where the line entered the water came closer and closer to the shore. Bill reached out with his net, but could not quite stretch far enough.
“Bring it in a bit,” called Bill.
“Your rod is almost bent double now,” replied Bob. “Do you want me to break it?”
“Well, you’re the fisherman of this crowd,” said Bill. “It was you who suggested a vacation in the Oregon woods. I admit that I don’t know how to use this net. What do you do with it, immerse it gently in the water under the fish or make a wild swoop with it and scoop up the fish?”