“A chub will take anything,” said Dan.
“Yes, but we won’t take the chub,” answered Nelson. “I’ll go hungry before I’ll eat those things.”
“Chub are all right,” said Dan. “You ask Tommy; he knows all about chub, don’t you, Tommy?”
But Tommy, searching for the hatchet, made no response. Armed with this weapon in lieu of a spade he paddled in to the shore, Nelson, on his back with one foot over each gunwale, taking slight interest in the proceedings. Tom disappeared into the woods and was presently back again with a varied collection of worms and bugs gathered from rotten logs and from the earth. They returned to the other canoe, and he and Bob made ready their lines.
“I’d like to know what sort of beasts these are,” said Bob disgustedly. “I’m afraid to touch some of them. Here, I’ll use the earthworms and leave these fancy things to you; and I hope they bite you. There, here goes for a whale.”
He threw his line out, and Tom followed a moment later with his. Then they waited while Dan and Nelson sarcastically made bets on the result. After five minutes without a nibble Bob grew restive.
“Any one know whether there are any fish in this lake?” he asked.
“All fished out, I guess,” said Dan. But at that moment Tom gave a suppressed whoop of excitement and began to let out his line.
“Play him, Tommy,” said Nelson lazily. “It’s probably a codfish.”