Part 31 (1/2)
He knew it all by heart, having many a time drunk in old Dimsted's words, and he remembered that he could tell what fish was biting by the way the float moved. If it was a bream, it would throw the float up so that it lay flat on the water. If it was a roach, it would give a short quick bob. If it was a perch, it would give a bob, and then a series of sharp quick bobs, the last of which would be right under, while if it was a tench, it would glide slowly away.
But the float did nothing but float, and nothing in the way of bobbing, while the shabby boy on the other side kept on striking, and every now and then hooking a fish.
”Isn't he lucky!” thought Dexter, and he pulled out his line to find that the bait had gone.
He began busily renewing it in a very _nonchalant_ manner, as he was conscious of the fact that the boy was watching him keenly with critical eyes.
Dexter threw in again; but there was no bite, and as the time went on, it seemed as if all the fish had been attracted to the other side of the river, where the shabby-looking boy, who fished skilfully and well, kept on capturing something at the rate of about one every five minutes.
They were not large, but still they were fish, and it was most tantalising to one to be patiently waiting, while the other was busy landing and rebaiting and throwing in again.
At last a happy thought struck Dexter, and after s.h.i.+fting his float about from place to place, he waited till he saw the boy looking at him, and he said--
”I say?”
”Hullo!” came back, the voices easily pa.s.sing across the water.
”What are you baiting with?”
”Gentles.”
”Oh!”
Then there was a pause, and more fis.h.i.+ng on one side, waiting on the other. At last the shabby boy said--
”You're baiting with worms, ain't you?”
”Yes.”
”Ah, they won't bite at worms much this time o' day.”
”Won't they?” said Dexter, putting out his line.
”No. And you ain't fis.h.i.+ng deep enough.”
”Ain't I!”
”No. Not by three foot.”
”I wish I'd got some gentles,” said Dexter at last.
”Do you!”
”Yes.”
”Shall I shy some over in the box?”
”Can you throw so far?”
”Yers!” cried the shabby boy. ”You'll give me the box again, won't you?”