“Yes,” said Katie as if reading her thoughts.
There was not for all that. No fifteen pounder rose to their lure around the far end of Edward’s Island. Six times they worked their way along the point, crossed it and circled back, but only one small fish brought them a moment’s thrill.
“Look!” Florence exclaimed as once more they headed out from the point. “There’s that lone fisherman, the mysterious one who is always there. Jeanne calls him the Phantom.”
“Yes,” said Katie. “He’s out at what the fishermen call Five Foot.”
“How far is it?” Florence’s voice was eager.
“One mile,” said Katie.
Lifting the field glasses to her eyes Florence studied the lone fisherman as he glided across the blue waters, then turned and glided back again. There was something about the waters on this day that seemed to lift him up above the surface.
“Looks as if he were floating through air.”
“Yes,” said Katie, showing all her fine teeth in a smile.
“There! He—he’s got one!” Florence exclaimed, quite forgetting her own line. “Must be a big one. How he pulls!”