Slowly he reeled in, and then had to play out again, as the fish made a dash past the boat. But the big spinner hook was too much for him, and after three or four minutes he was alongside, giving his last kicks and splashes in the water.
“Swing around, swing around, so the camera can get this!” called the doctor.
As the boat swung, Lester pulled nearer, the camera kept on clicking, and Bennie, reaching over, grabbed the line short and hauled the trout into the boat, holding him up to show his size.
“Some baby!” he cried, breathless with excitement. “He weighs about four pounds. What kind of a trout is he?”
“They put eastern brook trout into this lake,” said Uncle Billy. “There were no fish here till it was stocked.”
“Eastern brook trout!” Bennie exclaimed. “Well, that’s the funniest looking eastern brook trout I ever saw. I guess something happened to ’em.”
“It’s the climate,” Spider chuckled.
“I think it is myself, and no joke,” said the doctor. “They are certainly a different fish, both to look at and to eat, than the brook trout we used to catch back home. You catch one now, Spider.”
Spider took the line, and caught a trout. Then the doctor got one, and the line was passed to Lester, who lost the spinner in a rock on the bottom, but, with a new hook, caught still a fourth fish.
“That’s enough to last us; now for home,” came the orders.