“What amuses you?” she said.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Then you are very readily amused.”
“I am to-day. Up anchor. He has it. Tip up! So! A grilse.”
“Oh! how he jumps,” she cried, for he was in and out of the water a dozen times.
“That is the fashion of his kind, young and foolish. Hold him hard, and reel him in. He is too small to trifle with. Well done; four minutes, or less.”
“That horrid gaff!” said Rose.
“Wait a moment. I thought you might not like it. I have my big net,” and so in a moment the pretty five-pounder was in the boat, and had his coup de grâce.
The next half-hour Rose fished hard, but in vain, and began to be weary. Then, at last, there was a huge splash at the utmost limit of her casting distance.
“Two fish was after that fly,” said Michelle. “Guess they run against each other.”