"Good!" was the only comment of Jerry, who knew the value of silence when upon a fishing trip, since the water carries all sounds so readily.
Frank played his prize back and forth with a practiced hand. He seemed as cool as the oldest veteran fisherman could have been. Even when the big fellow, that must have weighed all of two pounds, flashed out of the water by several feet, turning over in the air in a graceful arch, with the intention of breaking the hook or line, Frank only lowered the bending tip of his rod a trifle, so as to give the fish a slack line and thwart his design.
For several minutes the exciting battle went on. The wily bass tried all the various tricks handed down from generations of ancestors, but he was matched now against one likely to prove his master. In the end, Jerry scooped him up with the landing-net, and held up the glistening beauty.
FOR SEVERAL MINUTES THE EXCITING BATTLE WENT ON.
"Hand me that bit of hard wood, please, Frank. I always make it a point to kill my fish when I land him, to put the poor thing out of agony," he said.
"And you do quite right, old fellow. I only wish there were more sportsmen like you. More power to your elbow, say I. Shall I paddle a bit, now, and give you a chance to straighten out your casting-arm?" observed Frank.
"Just as you say. The sight of such a dandy bass excites the blood of an enthusiastic fisherman, you know."