"Charley! mind your cork; it's gone under."
So it had, and in a moment more he could shout, "I'm even with you. Only mine's a pumpkin-seed."
It looked as if the luck of that morning had settled upon the two boys. It was hard to say which of them came in for the largest share of it. Even before they moved their boat the first time they could count three bull-heads, six perch, twice as many sunfish, or "pumpkin-seed," two shiners, and a sucker. To be sure, none of them were very large fish, but they were all big enough to eat, and would count when they came to compare with the contents of the fat man's basket.
"That was a pretty big fish-basket," said Charley. "Most of 'em are flat little things."
"It's bigger'n he'll need for all the fish he'll find in that brook. Hullo, my bait's off again."
"So's mine. Just a nibble."
"Six prime worms gone hand-running. Jeff, I guess we might as well pull up. The snappin'-turtles have come for us."
"Do they skin a hook that way?"
"That's just what they do. Black Dan says the fish put 'em up to it. Particularly that there boss pickerel."
Charley had more than one story to tell about Black Dan, but he pulled up the big stone that was doing duty as an anchor, and off they went to another "tip-top spot."