Heedless of wet feet, Phil waded out until the water had reached to the knees of his canvas trousers, and there he stood, displaying no small amount of skill at the delightful task of baffling and tiring the fighting fish. Whenever the finny victim grew weary and permitted the line to slacken the angler reeled in, keeping it fairly taut, all the while prepared to let the reel run when it was necessary. In this manner, following the fish’s repeated breaks for liberty, the boy gradually brought it closer, admonishing his companion, who had likewise waded out and was waiting near at hand, to be ready to dip with the net when told to do so.
It was indeed exciting work, which kept them keyed to the highest tension. Both knew what it was to experience the fierce thrills of a savage football clash and the triumphant elation of brilliant and successful work upon the baseball field, but in the sport of this midsummer morning hour there was something different, yet quite as intensely enjoyable and blood-stirring. The reason, perhaps, lay in the fact that both possessed the natural instincts of the sportsman who finds the highest pleasure in a fair and honorable battle where victory and defeat hang in the balance until the last moment. For until the net should lift the fish from its native element they could not know how securely or how lightly it was hooked, and it was possible that, through a sudden swirling struggle of the creature itself or an inopportune tautening of the line just when it turned desperately to run away, it might tear itself free and escape.
Three times Grant made ready to dip, and once he sunk the net deep in the water; and three times the weakening fish darted off, setting the reel whirring. On the last occasion both lads obtained a good view of the finny fellow, magnified by the water, and therefore looking large indeed.
“He certain is a corker, Phil,” breathed Grant. “Bring him up again. I’ll get him next time.”
“Sink the net as I reel him toward you,” instructed Springer, “and be ready to make a quick scoop under him. Here he comes now.”
Moving a bit heavily and slowly in protest against the treatment it was receiving, the fish was reeled in toward Grant, who obeyed directions faithfully, accomplishing the final coup by a swift forward and upward movement of the sunken net.
“Ah-ha!” exulted Springer. “That’s the sus-stuff! You did it fine, Rod.”
They waded ashore, and Phil, thrusting a thumb and finger into the fish’s gills, lifted the shining, spotted trout, flapping helplessly, from amid the meshes.
“Look!” he cried proudly. “Just had him caught by the corner of the lip. A pull an ounce too hard would have lost him.”
“Say,” said the Texan approvingly, “I opine you handled that baby right skilful. Jingoes! but he’s a beaut. Must weight better than two pounds.”