This Bert Bobbsey did. He felt a weight on his bamboo rod, and as it went in a sweeping circle over his head he had a glimpse of something flashing like silver in the sun.
“You got him! A beauty!” yelled Sam. “A big one!”
When Bert ran to look in the grass, where he had landed his catch, he was delighted to find that he had caught a good-sized chub, as Sam named the fish.
“Say, you brought me to a good place all right!” cried Bert in delight to his companion. “There’s fish here all right! I hope you get one!”
“Oh, I’ll get one all right,” said Sam. “I hardly ever come here without getting as many as we can use at home. My mother likes fish, and about twice a week I come here to get a mess.”
He had retained his seat on the bank, his line dangling in the water, while Bert landed his catch, and he watched the Bobbsey boy as he took the chub off the hook—which was not easy to do, since the fish had swallowed the hook in its eagerness to get the bait. When Bert had his prize loose, he strung a string through the gills and then, fastening on a cross-stick so the fish would not slip off, he put it back in a little pool, tying the shore end of the string to a tree.
The chub feebly flapped its tail and tried to swim away, but he was held a prisoner. In the water he would be kept fresh until Bert was ready to go home with any others he might land.
Sam caught the next one, tossing back on the grass a fish not quite as big as Bert’s, but fair in size.
“Now my luck’s beginning!” exclaimed Sam, as he fastened his fish to another string and let it swim about in a pool. His fish had only been hooked through the lip and was hardly hurt at all.
The two lads then “took turns,” so to speak, in landing fish. It was a fine day and a good place, and first Bert would land one and then Sam would follow.