"It arn't a conger, or he'd begin to cut about now and shake his head to get riddy of the hook."
"Then it's some other big fish. Think it's a shark."
"No. What would a shark be doing there?"
"I dunno; but he's coming up. I say, put down the oars."
Hezz nodded, laid in his oars, and stood close behind his companion, gradually growing as excited for a minute or so, and then grinning.
"It arn't no fish," he said.
"It is, I tell you," cried Lance, as he kept up a steady haul, the boat having yielded till it was exactly over the line.
"I never see a fish take it so quiet as that," continued Hezz.
"It's only till he sees us, and then he'll make a desperate rush to get away."
"I'll be ready for him," said Hezz, laughing softly, as he gently rested the handle of the boat-hook on the side, thrusting it out towards the tightened line, which still came slowly in, though the strain threatened to make it part. "Hope it will be good to eat, Master Lance."