Glenn long remained motionless after the sounds died away, as if endeavouring to retain the soothing effect of the ringing notes that had so sweetly reverberated along the jutting peaks of the towering cliff!
“I’ve got a bite!” exclaimed Joe, bending over the verge of the bank and stretching his arms as far as possible over the water, while his line moved about in various directions, indicating truly that a fish had taken the hook.
“Hold fast to the rod this time, Joe,” remarked Glenn, who became interested in the scene.
“Won’t I? Its tied fast to my wrist.”
“Is it not time to pull him up?” asked Glenn, seeing that the fish, so far from being conscious of peril, inclined towards the shore with the line in quest of more food.
“Here goes!” said Joe, jerking the rod up violently with both hands. No sooner did the fish feel the piercing hook in his mouth than he rose to the surface, and splashing the water several feet round in every direction, darted quickly downwards, in spite of the strenuous efforts of Joe to the contrary.
Nevertheless, Joe entertained no fears about the result; and the fish, as if apprized of the impossibility of capturing the rod, ran along parallel with the shore, gradually approaching the brink of the water, and seemingly with the intention to surrender himself at the feet of the piscator. But this was not his purpose. When Joe made another strong pull, in the endeavour to strand him in the shallow water, the fish again threw up the spray (some of which reached his adversary’s face,) and, turning his head outwards, ran directly away from the shore.
“Pull him back, Joe!” said Glenn.
“I am trying with all my might,” replied Joe, “but he’s so plaguy strong he won’t come, hang him!”
“He’ll get away if you don’t mind!” continued Glenn, evincing much animation in his tones and gestures.