“You’ve got it, right enough,” Jim said. “Why, your rod’s bending right over. Want a hand?”
“No, thanks—manage it myself,” said the fisherman, tugging manfully. “Here she comes!”
The line came in faster now, and the strain on the rod was plain. Excitement ran high.
“It’s a great big perch, I do believe,” Norah exclaimed. “Just fancy, if it beats Dad’s big boomer—the biggest ever caught here.”
“It’ll beat some records,” Wally gasped, hauling in frantically. “Here she comes!”
“She” came, with a final jerk. Jim broke into a suppressed shout of laughter. For Wally’s catch was nothing less than an ancient, mud-laden boot!
CHAPTER VI.
A BUSH FIRE
Wally disentangled his hook gravely, while the others would have laughed more heartily but for fear of frightening the fish.
“Well, I’m blessed!” said the captor at length, surveying the prize with his nose in the air. “A blooming old boot! Been there since the year one, I should think, by the look of it.”
“I thought you had a whale at the very least,” grinned Harry.