rybody knows how it feels to fish. You throw in your hook with such
blissful certainty that no fish can possibly resist the temptation you
are dangling before its eyes. There is suppressed excitement all over
you. You are all on the alert, feeling for imaginary nibbles, for bites
that are not there. Sometimes, of course, the dreams come true, and the
bites are realities; but these occasions are sadly outnumbered by the
times when you keep on feeling and bobbing your line vainly, while
excitement lulls to expectation, and expectation merges into hope, and
hope becomes wishing, and wishing often dies down to disappointment.

Such was the gradual fate of the fishing party at Anglers' Bend. At
first the four floats were watched with an intensity of regard that
should surely have had some effect in luring fishes to the surface; but
as the minutes dragged by and not a fish seemed inclined even to nibble,
the solemn silence which had brooded on the quartet was broken by sundry
fidgetings and wrigglings and suppressed remarks on the variableness of
fish and the slowness of fishing. Men enjoy the sport, because they can
light their pipes and smoke in expectant ease; but the consolation of
tobacco was debarred from boys who were, as Jim put it, "too young to
smoke and too old to make idiots of themselves by trying it," and so
they found it undeniably dull.

Billy came down to join the party presently, after he had seen to his
horses and unpacked old Polly's load. His appearance gave Jim a
brilliant idea, and he promptly despatched the black boy for cake, which
proved a welcome stimulant to flagging enthusiasm.

"Don't know if fish care about cake crumbs," said Harry, finishing a
huge slice with some regret.

"Didn't get a chance of sampling any of mine," Wally laughed; "I wanted
it all myself. Hallo!"

"What is it--a bite?"

"Rather--such a whopper! I've got it, too," Wally gasped, tugging at his
line.

"You've got it, right enough," Jim said. "Why, your rod's bending right
over. Want a hand?"

"No, thanks--manage it myself," said the fisherman, tugging manfully.
"Here she comes!"

The line came in faster now, and the strain on the rod was plain.
Excitement ran high.

"It's a great big perch, I do believe," Norah exclaimed. "Just fancy, if
it beats Dad's big boomer--the biggest ever caught here."

"It'll beat some records," Wally gasped, hauling in frantically. "Here
she comes!"

"She" came, with a final jerk. Jim