Rollitt was far too busy to heed anything but the six-pounder that struggled and plunged and tore away with his line to the end of the reel.

Had all Fellsgarth stood congregated on the banks, he would never have noticed them.
Ah! he was beginning to wind in now, gingerly and artfully, and the fish, sulking desperately among the stones, was beginning to find his master.

It was a keen battle between those two.

Now the captive would dive behind a rock and force the line out a yard or two; now the captor would coax it on from one hiding-place to the next, and by a cunning flank movement cut off its retreat.

Then, yielding little by little, the fish would feign surrender, till just as it seemed within reach, twang would go the line and the rod bend almost double beneath the sudden plunge.