I know," growled Dave.

"I only says, Is it to be fishing or games ?" "Fishing, Dave.

It's all right; go on, Tom; splash away gently." "Because if--" "No, no, go on, Dave.

There, we won't send any more over you." Dave uttered a grunt, and forced the boat along once more, while Marston sat in the stern an amused spectator of the boys' antics.
Everything now went on orderly enough, till they had proceeded a long way on, in and out, for a quarter of a mile, when at a word from Dave the splashing and stabbing of the water grew more vigorous, the punt being now pretty close to the net, the irregular row of bundles of rushes showing plainly.
And now Dave executed a fresh evolution, changing the position of the punt, for instead of its approaching end on, he turned it abreast, so that it pretty well touched the reedy sides of the canal, and with the poles now being plied on one side, the boat was made to approach more slowly.
"Now, mester, you'd better stand up," said Dave.
"Yes, Mr Marston, stand up," cried Dick.

"Look!" Marston rose to his feet, and as he looked toward the entrance where the net was spread there was a wave-like swell upon the surface, which might have been caused by the movement of the boat or by fish.
There was no doubt about its being caused by fish, for all at once, close by the row of rush bundles, there was a splash.