“Oh! pretty fair,” replied the one who handled the short oars, as he turned in his seat to reach for something that lay in the bow of the skiff. “We can have a fish dinner tonight, anyway.”
Then he held up a monster muskalonge, that must have weighed all of twenty pounds.
“Great Jupiter, what a sock-dollager!” cried George, who was taking it easy in his boat; while Nick thrust up his head to shout:
“Bully for you, Jack! Now we won’t starve to death! The country is saved!”
“Well, I like that,” said Herb. “To hear him talk you’d think I’d cut him down to one meal a day, when to tell the truth he——”
“Stop right there, Mister Skipper!” cried the fat boy, threateningly. “It’s rank treachery to betray your boatmate to the common enemy. But that is a dandy fish, Jack. Where did you catch him?”
“I think in the upper jaw,” replied Jack, solemnly, at which there was a shout.
“I see you did,” replied Nick, bending over, “for there’s a broken hook sticking out of his mouth right now. Ugh! look at the cruel teeth, would you? I’d hate to let him close his jaws on my finger. But if the gimp snell gave way, how under the sun did you ever get him aboard, Jack?”
“I’ll tell you,” came the calm reply. “It happened that I had to play this old pirate for nearly twenty minutes before I could tire him out. You’d have laughed to see how he towed my little punkin-seed of a boat around. But finally he seemed all but exhausted, and I kept reeling in until I had him right up close, where I could bend over and touch him with my hand.”
“Wow! you couldn’t hire me to do that now,” exclaimed Nick, shuddering as he gazed at that array of sharp, vicious looking teeth.
“I could see right then and there,” Jack continued, quietly, “that the gimp had been twisted until it was ready to break away. So I knew I didn’t dare try to lift him aboard by the line; and I had no gaff hook along. So I just let my hand slide over his back until I reached his opening and closing gills. Then I suddenly inserted several of my fingers, and gave a quick fling. He came aboard all right; but the line parted. So you see, Nick, it was a close shave for our supper, all right.”
Josh, having made sure the fierce-looking fish was actually dead, by pounding it on the head several times with a piece of wood, started to get it ready for the pan. It was really the first one of decent size that they had thus far hooked; though several meals had been made of small-mouth black bass, taken either by casting, or trolling with a spoon.