balance of the morning was passed at the brook, and, strange to say, the captain and Joe were both quite successful, while Darry hardly got a bite.
"I'm going to try my luck further up the stream," announced the boy. "I believe we are all fishing too closely together."
"That doesn't seem to hurt my luck," said Joe.
Darry was soon climbing the rocks leading up the brook. The way was rough, but he was growing used to this life in the open air and he enjoyed even the hardship, if such it can be called.
"That ought to make a good fishing-hole," he said to himself, as he reached a point where several big rocks hung over the water's edge. It's dark down there, and that's what some fish like."
He prepared his bait with care, and then dropped his line into the hole. Almost immediately he felt a nibble, and, giving a jerk, found he had caught something that was both large and powerful.
"Gracious, it must be a whopper!" he muttered, as the fish darted hither and thither. Then he braced back on the rock, to play the game, for bringing in the catch at once seemed out of the question. The pole bent greatly, and he was afraid it would snap on him.
