Tom landed the next fish, but, instead of taking it off the hook, he threw the line, fish, and all back into the water.
“What’s that for?” Dick asked. “We have plenty of bait left, and there’s no use in wasting a perfectly good fish.”
“Wait,” Tom remarked, laconically.
They had not long to wait, however, for in a few minutes there was another jerk on Tom’s line.
“Catch hold, fellows,” Tom cried, “and help me pull. Gee, I can’t hold it, much less pull it in.”
Intensely excited, Dick added his strength to Tom’s and pulled hard.
“Pull, pull!” Tom cried, almost crazy with excitement. “We can’t lose him now. Come on! Come on!—now!”
And with one concerted effort they pulled the line up, falling over one another in their attempt to keep their balance. And there, at their feet, was the largest pickerel they had ever seen—old Pete. Quick as a flash, Tom landed on the prize, just in time to keep it from slipping back into the water.
“Look at him, look at him, fellows!” Tom shouted. “Here’s old Pete, the biggest pickerel in the world, the wary old codger that has defied every fisherman for miles around, and has even eluded the deadly machinations of Si Perkins. Don’t stand there like wooden statues—come here and help me unhook this old reprobate. Why don’t you say something?”