“Bert Bobbsey,” was the answer.
“You live around here?” asked Sam. “I never saw you before that I know of.”
“No, I don’t live here,” Bert said. “I’m visiting at Cloverbank.”
“Oh, yes, I know Mr. Watson!” exclaimed Sam. “My father works for him. He’s picking peaches now.”
Sam proved to be a nice lad, and he and Bert soon became good friends, talking about fishing and other outdoor sports. Sam led the way up the bank of the creek to a quiet, shady spot beneath some overhanging willow trees.
“There’s the eddy,” he said, pointing to where the water ran deep and quiet. The stream had washed out a place in the earth bank, making a deep pool where the water swirled around in a circle, or “eddy,” as the country lad called it. On the other side of the creek, opposite this point, the stream was shallow and ran rapidly over the stones.
“But the big fish come to this pool,” Sam said. “You’ll soon have a big one!”
He was right. Bert had only thrown his worm-baited hook in the water and waited a few minutes before the bobber on his line dipped suddenly under water.
“You’ve got him! A big one!” whispered Sam. “Pull up!”
Neither Sam nor Bert were doing fishing in a scientific way with a reel, and the only way to land a fish, once he was hooked, was to pull up the pole quickly.