her side.
Second bait gone, and replaced by a fresh piece of squid from the
basket. Third bait gone, and replaced, to descend on the other side.
Then four baits untouched, six more gone, taken off.

"Why, if you'd been ready to strike, you might have had all these fish
when they began to bite," cried Dick.

"P'r'aps so," said Will. "Maybe it was only the crabs that bit the
baits off."

And all the time he kept on hauling in the line and examining the hook
till they were a long way on towards the farther buoy.

"Oh, I say," cried Dick at last, "this isn't half such good sport as--
what do you call it?--whiffing."

"Think not?" said Will.

"Yes, that I do. I should have thought you would have caught lots of
fish with a line like this."

"So we do," cried Josh, "sometimes."

"I wish you'd catch something now," said Dick in a disappointed tone.

"Here you are then," cried Will, laughing as he hauled on at the line;
"a big one."

"Where, where?" cried Dick, ready with the hook.

"Down below here; I can feel him."

"Let me haul him in."

"No, no," said Will. "You'd better let me. You'll get too wet. Be
ready with the hook."

"Yes, yes, I am," cried Dick, more excitedly than ever.

But he began to look disappointed as he saw three bare hooks drawn out,
all of which Will baited and passed on, to fall into the sea on the
other side.

"Why, there can't be," began Dick. "Yes, there he is; I can see him."

"Yes, here he comes," said Will, hauling strongly now as a great
quivering grey object changing to white could be seen below. "Ready
with the hook! slip it into him anywhere, and haul him aboard. Never
mind a bit of splashing."

But Dick did flinch for a few moments as something came to the surface,
beating, flapping, and sending the water flying; while before the lad
had recovered from his surprise, Josh had bent forward, taken the hook,
and lifted the great fish on board just as it freed itself from the
hook, and lay floundering at the bottom of the boat.

"Skate," cried Dick. "What a monster!"

"No," cried Will, coolly rebaiting the hook; "it's his first cousin.
That's a thornback. Mind his prickles."

The great ugly sharky fish was hooked forward by Josh and placed in a
great basket, where it lay writhing its eely tail, and flapping its
wing-like fins as the boat slowly progressed, and bait after bait was
replaced, many being untouched, the thornback, skate, or ray being the
only fish t