"Ay, he'll tek a bait again, sure enough, and we'll hev him some day! Theer, it's getting late; look at the starnels sattling down on the reeds!" He pointed to the great clouds of birds curving round in the distance as he stooped and picked up the pole, ready to send the punt homewards, for the evening was closing in, and it would be dark before they reached the shore.
"What's that ?" cried Tom suddenly, as he swept the surface of the water, and he pointed to a faint white speck about twenty yards away.
"Hey?
Why, it is!" cried Dave.

"Tek the hook again, Mester Dick, lad; there's a little wind left yet in th' blether, and it's coom oop!" "Let me!" cried Tom.
"Shall I do it, lad ?" said Dave.
"No, let me try this once!" cried Dick.

"Or, no; you try, Tom!" Tom snatched at the staff of the hook, but offered it back to his companion.
"No, Dick," he said; "you missed, and you've a right to try again!" "No, you try!" said Dick hurriedly, as he thrust his hands in his pockets to be out of temptation.
"Nay, let Mester Dick hev one more try!" cried Dave; and the lad took the staff, went through all his former manoeuvres, struck more deeply with the staff, and this time, as he felt a check, he twisted the hook round and round in the string, and felt as if it would be jerked out of his hand.
"Twist un again, mun! Get well twissen!" cried Dave; and as the lad obeyed, the punt, already in motion, was for a short distance literally drawn by the strong fish in its desperate efforts to escape.
"Let me come this time, young Tom Tallington!" cried Dave.
"No, no; I'll help!" cried Tom.
"But I shouldn't like you to lose this un, lads.

Theer, go on and charnsh it.

You get well howd o' the band while young squire untwisses the hook.