"Fletch! Look! A man drowned, maybe. Come on quick!" Such alluring possibilities may come true in a city.
They sprinted up to the rapidly increasing crowd, and wriggled, boylike, past obstructing arms and between tense bodies until they found themselves in the inner line of the circle. A carp of a size sufficient to excite the envy of the neighboring fishermen lay with laboring gills upon the water-spattered planking. The lads gazed in open-mouthed admiration at the large, glistening scales, the staring eyes, and the twitching, murky red fins.
"Weighs five pounds if he's an ounce," orated the proud captor. "Says I to myself when he bit, 'I've got a bird there,' and I was right."
John turned to his chum with the inevitable question:
"Gee, don't you wish we could catch a fish like that?"
And Silvey made the inevitable reply:
"Just don't you, though!"
They watched breathlessly as the fisherman forced his stringer between the large gills and out through the gaping mouth, and tied it in a secure double knot that there might be no danger of an escape. As the rebellious captive was lowered into the water, and the throng about the spot began to thin, the successful angler seated himself again.
"What'd you catch him on?" John broke out.
"Taters."