"Come on, Jeff," shouted Charley; "we'll beat him!"
But then he suddenly turned again to say:
"Now, mister, you've got your scoop-net along. Minners don't count, do they?"
"No, sonny, minnows won't count. Only fish that are big enough to eat."
Charley had never seen a "landing-net" used in his life, but he knew what minnows were good for.
"If we had some, Jeff," he said, as they hurried along toward the pond, "we could try for some pickerel. There's some of them left. Only they've been fished for so much, they know enough to let a hook alone."
"Big ones?"
"Some of 'em. There's one awful big one. Black Dan—he's the best fisherman round here, only he's lame of one leg—he says it's the boss fish, and he's fished for him a whole day at a time."
"Did he ever get him to bite?"
"No; but he says he's seen that pickerel smell of his bait, and then swim up to the top of the water and wink at him."