“Rich? I’m glad of it. He’s all right,” the boy declared, flipping his line to a new spot.
“Yep-py, rich,” Nancy repeated. “He’s living at the hotel.”
“Oh, I knew that,” scoffed the boy, airily.
“Did you? Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Secret,” snapped Ted, shutting his lips with a snap that even a venturesome fish might have heard.
“And the Townsends—they are quite prosperous too,” Nancy pressed further.
“Ye-ah.” Ted was not encouraging the confidence.
For a few moments neither of them spoke again. Then Nancy’s line began to draw, to pull out into a straight line.
“Easy!” whispered Ted. “You’ve got a bite! Don’t yank it. Wait until he’s on, good and tight!”
They waited, breathless. Then Ted, the experienced, gave the signal, and Nancy, the amateur, drew very gently on her pole. Up, up, but still under water, until suddenly the water surface freed the capture, and something black, shiny, snaky, dangled violently from the upheld line!