“Not very. You see a laker is not much of a fighter. A three or four-pound square tail will put up more of a fight than a twelve-pound laker. You can usually pull the latter in without playing him at all. But you’re apt to get hold of a salmon and then look out. They’re gamey enough.”
He had just finished speaking when the girl’s rod bent sharply. “I’ve got one,” she cried.
Bob stopped paddling. “Reel him in if he doesn’t pull too hard,” he ordered.
“I guess he’s only a little one,” she declared a moment later after she had recovered about half of her line.
“You never can tell,” Bob cautioned as he picked up the landing net. “Be on your guard for a rush though I hardly think he’ll make one.”
“He’s pulling harder now,” she said and he could see that she was having about all she could do to turn the handle of the reel.
Foot by foot the line came in and finally Bob declared that he could see the fish.
“Steady now,” he cautioned. “Just a little more and I’ll have him.”
Followed a swift thrust of the net and the fish was flopping in the canoe.
“Gracious, he isn’t so small after all,” Helen cried.