"I was just going there myself," said Clint Parsons, who had been quietly winding up his line.
"You didn't say so."
"But I meant to all the same."
"Well, it's my chance, of course, now," said Mel, with quite a little air of victory; "I said so first."
So he did; and so, without another word, he baited his hook daintily and went forward. There was an aperture in the earth-work of the dam, over which a timber had fallen, and this upon another, leaving a space scarcely wide enough to admit the head and shoulders of a good-sized boy; but Mel stretched himself flat and wormed himself partially under the timber, and dropped his hook down into the still, shadowy water below. It was seized on the instant. Mel, startled and joyful, caught a glimpse of what seemed to him the largest fish he had ever seen. He pulled on his line, gently at first, and then with all the strength he could muster. The water was splashed into foam.
"Grab hold of my feet, boys!" yelled Mel in great agitation. "He'll have me in head first. He's a whale—a reg'lar whale; but I'll get him if the hook holds on, and it ought to—it's my biggest one."
The hook held; the boys, who were watching, almost wild with excitement, seized Mel's feet; there was a short, sharp struggle between fish and boy, and then a shout as Mel, red-faced and triumphant, emerged from his voluntary imprisonment.
"Hooray! I've got him! Look, boys! I'll bet a six-pence he'll weigh over three pounds. He pulled like a savage."
"Wouldn't wonder," said Clint, as they all gathered around to take a good look at the fish, which was truly an unusually large one. "I'm glad you've got him, Mel, but I wish 'twas me, because I've promised Judge Holden's wife a mess, and I've only got seven. She said she'd give me a dollar for a good big string."
"Well, I wouldn't sell this catch for a good deal more'n one dollar," returned Mel, and he held up for an admiring view the fish with its shining speckled sides. "He's quiet enough," said he, "since I rapped him with my jackknife handle."