“We’ll fish in the shade under the willow trees,” decided Ted. “The water’s deeper there, and you can get bigger fish in deep water.”
“We must look out that Trouble doesn’t fall in,” Janet said.
“I’ll watch him,” offered Ted.
It was pleasant in the shade of the drooping willow trees, at the foot of which the brook ran silent and rather deep. Ted pointed out a place on the sloping bank where his sister and brother could sit and cast in. Janet baited Trouble’s bent pin hook with a bit of meat and then her own. Ted put on a wiggling worm.
For a few minutes after they had cast in, the children kept silence. That was part of the fishing game—not to make any more noise than you could help. Whether or not fish can hear under water, I don’t know; but I remember, when I was a boy, I always tried to be quiet when I was after fish.
Suddenly Janet, who was sitting near Trouble, looked across at Ted and exclaimed:
“I got a nibble!”
“Keep still!” whispered Ted. “Do you want to scare all the fish away? If you have a bite, pull in!”
Cautiously Janet raised her pole, lifting the line from the water.
“You’ve got to pull quicker and harder than that if you want to catch a fish!” declared Ted. “Say, you have a big bite!” he added, as he saw his sister’s line swishing through the water and the end of her pole bending. “I didn’t think you’d get such a big bite on a piece of meat! Pull in! Pull in!”