"Now, mother," said Vosh as he took hold of her line, "I declare, you have hooked a good one. I guess I'll pull him in for you."
It hardly seemed to cost him an effort to bring a great three-pound pickerel through the hole, and sling him out upon the ice.
"That's better than perch, deacon."
"Shall I help you, Port?" asked Corry.
"No, sir-e-e-e! I'll bring in my own fish."
"Hand over hand! Don't let him get away from you."
Port's blood was up, now he had seen that other pickerel landed, and he pulled with all his might.
"Now lift," said Vosh. "Don't let him rub his nose against the ice, or he'll break loose. Don't lean over too far. That's it."
It was splendidly exciting; and Port followed the directions given him, although his heart was beating quickly, and he thought he had never lifted any thing else quite so heavy as that fish.
"Out he comes!" he shouted.