“I’m all right, daddy!” she gasped. “Oh, such a beauty—I know he weighs a ton!”
“Let him go, miss!” shouted Patsy, rendered desperate by the hopelessness of coaching two novices at once. “Give him his head—he’ll come back to ye. There y’are, sir—did ye see his head come up?—wind him in! No, not you, miss—let him have his run: sure that one won’t be tired this long while, by the looks of him. Oh, murder, sir, is he gone from you?”—as the trout made a fresh dash for freedom and fled under the boat. “No,—howld on to the vilyun an’ he’ll be back. Kape a nice, steady strain on him, miss—give and take.” He hovered over the side, feverishly grasping the handle of the landing-net. “Ye have him bet, sir—here he comes. Nice and aisy does it—don’t hurry him—kape your point up. Back a little—ah, I have him!”
The net slipped under Wally’s fish deftly. Simultaneously, Norah’s trout executed a wild leap, and Norah reeled him, quite involuntarily, near the boat. Patsy, responding gallantly to her cry for help, dropped the first trout hastily, and turned just in time to net the second, by sheer good luck. The excitement of the moment overcame him, and Norah’s fish, falling upon Wally’s, entangled both casts and lines by a few frantic leaps, before Patsy could collect himself sufficiently to pounce upon them. The boat rocked with enthusiasm. Jim had prudently reeled in, to be out of the way of possible happenings, and stood, beaming, while the victorious anglers looked at each other with parted lips and shining eyes, and Mr. Burke wailed and triumphed alternately.
“Wirra, but them lines is destroyed on us! Oh, the grand fish, entirely!—would ye get as good now, sir, with your sinkers and your big lump of bait! An’ you played ’em fine, both of ye! Lave off flopping, will ye, and let me get a howlt of the fly—begob, he have it ate, no less!” Norah’s trout was put out of its misery by a quick blow on a thwart, and the fly rescued. “There you are, miss, and he well over a pound if he’s an ounce!”
“Oh, daddy, isn’t he a beauty!”
“He is, indeed,” Mr. Linton said, looking at the golden-brown fish, with his splendid spots. “I never saw a handsomer fellow. Is yours as good Wally?”
“Betther, I believe,” boomed Patsy, a vision of triumph. “They might be mates—but Mr. Wally’s is bigger. Have ye the little spring-balance, sir? Ye’d ought to weigh them.”
“I have it,” Wally said. “Eighteen ounces, Nor,—and mine’s a pound and a half. Well-l!” He drew a long breath. “If ever I say a word against my little rod again!”
“Oh, wasn’t it glorious!” Norah uttered. “Will those lines ever come clear, Patsy?”
“Yerra, they will. Have patience, miss, and I’ll get them undone in no time. Cast away now, Mr. Jim—and heaven send he do not land his on the top of this tangle!” added Mr. Burke, in pious hope.