But the perch knew that the time had come when a perch must judge for himself.
The float curtesied and went under, and in another second the little independent was in the boat.
"There are other fools in the world besides me, it seems," said Hugh to himself.
"He'll do; but I wish he was a dace," said Doll, slipping the victim into a tin with holes in the top.

"Half a dozen will be enough." They got half a dozen, baited and set the trimmers white side up, and were turning to row back, when Doll's eyes became suddenly fixed.
"By Jove! there's something at it," he said, pointing to a trimmer at some distance.
Both men looked intently at it.

Crack felt that something was happening, and left off smelling the empty fish-can.
The trimmer began to nod, to tilt, and then turned suddenly upsidedown, and remained motionless.
"He's running the line off it," said Doll.
As he spoke the trimmer gave one jerk and went under.

Then it reappeared, awkwardly bustling out into the open.
"Oh, hang it all! it's Sunday," said Doll, with a groan.

"We can't be catching pike on a Sunday." And he caught up the oars and rowed swiftly towards the trimmer.
As soon as they were within a boat's length it disappeared again, came up again, and went pecking along the top of the water.