"
Both boys laughed quietly at the conceit. Their day started finely and
augured well. Preparing their tackle they lost no time in lowering an
alluring bait to the finny denizens of the water.
Evidently the fish were hungry for not many minutes passed before Harry
felt a tug at his line. He began reeling in rapidly.
"Oh, what a whopper," exclaimed Arnold peering over the side of the
boat. "It's as long as my arm and big as a good sized stove pipe, I
believe. One or two like that will be enough."
"Thanks," panted Harry. "Wait till I get this one."
Skillfully the lad drew the fish to a point where he could be sure of
landing it without danger. Then he waited for his chum to assist with
the landing net. The fish was a beauty.
"What shall we call it?" proudly questioned the lad.
"Well, I should call that No. 1," gravely replied Arnold. "He looks like
a fellow I used to know by the name of 'A. No. 1.'"
"Good," cried the delighted Harry. "Now you go after his cousin. Get Mr.
No. 2, and do it quickly."
"Here he comes," declared Arnold. "I knew I spit, no, spat--what should
I say, spitted or spatted?--on that bait just right."
"You watch out or he'll walk away with the bait and all."
"Bingo," yelled Arnold. "I got him."
Harry laughed to see the way Arnold was struggling to keep the fish. For
a short time it looked as if the fish had Arnold. At last after a long
battle the fish was exhausted and gave up.
"That's a better one than mine," was Harry's generous comment.
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