He merely clenched his teeth more tightly and watched his floating cork.
Meanwhile Dick caught his third fish and then Pennington equaled him.
Now their taunts, veiled but little, became more numerous.
Warner never spoke, nor did he take his eyes from his cork.

He had heard every word, but he would not show annoyance.

He was compelled to see Dick draw in yet another fine fellow, while his own cork seemed to have all the qualities of a lifeboat.

It danced and bobbed around, but apparently it had not the slightest intention of sinking.

Why did he have such luck, or rather lack of it?
Was fortune going to prove unkind to the good old rock-ribbed Green Mountain State?
There came a tremendous jerk upon the line! The cork shot down like a bullet, but Warner, making a mighty pull and snap with the rod, landed a glorious gleaming fish upon the bank, a full two feet in length, probably as large as any that had ever been caught in that stream.