Luck did not seem to favor the anglers, for, though they paddled along the shores, casting into the shadows, and varied this by trying deeper water, the sun had set before they got a single rise. At last, however, there was a swirl as Crane lightly dropped a “Morning Glory” as far as he could send it from the canoe, and the buzz of the reel made the hearts of both lads jump.
“I’ve got one—by jinks! I’ve got one,” palpitated Sile.
“You haven’t got him yet,” said Sleuth. “He’s hooked, but you can’t be sure of him until we dip him into the canoe.”
“Ginger! see him go,” cried Crane. “He must be a bouncer. Grab the paddle, Pipe, and follow up.”
Having reeled in, Sleuth did as directed, and at the first dip of his blade the boys saw the fish leap clear of the water, with a tremendous slap, as it tried to shake the hook free. With a splash, he fell back and took to running again.
“Shades of the Pilgrim Fathers!” gasped Sleuth in envious admiration. “He’s a monster. He’s the father of them all. Why didn’t I have the luck to hook him?”
“It’s a salmon, and a peach,” fluttered Crane, reeling in as the fish yielded. “Have that net ready, Pipe.”
“No hurry,” returned Sleuth wisely. “Don’t you get the idea that that fellow is going to let us dip him in a hurry. You’ve got your work cut out for you for some time, old man.”
He was quite right about this, for the gamey fish fought like a shark, resorting to all the devices and stratagems of its kind. Time after time the salmon leaped high out of the water, and whenever it did so both boys were filled with apprehension until the tautening of the line again told them that the creature had not broken away. At least twenty minutes were consumed in the delightful, nerve-racking task of playing that fish, and Crane repeatedly brought him close to the canoe, only to have him turn and run with a fresh burst of strength and a persistence that threatened to leave the reel bare of line. At last, however, with the soft twilight thickening, the salmon betrayed unmistakable evidence of weariness. Slowly and resentfully it permitted itself to be brought closer, its efforts to run becoming shorter and weaker. Grasping the bamboo handle of the landing net, Piper awaited the proper moment, ready to dip.