time no sound was heard save the dull "plunk" of sinkers
as the lines, one by one, were flung into the water.

The Hermit did not fish. He had plenty at his camp, he said, and fishing
for fun had lost its excitement, since he fished for a living most days
of the week. So he contented himself with advising the others where to
throw in, and finally sat down on the grass near Norah.

A few minutes passed. Then Jim jerked his line hurriedly and began to
pull in with a feverish expression. It lasted until a big black fish
made its appearance, dangling from the hook, and then it was suddenly
succeeded by a look of intense disgust, as a final wriggle released the
prisoner, which fell back with a splash into the water.

"Well, I'm blessed!" said Jim wrathfully.

"Hard luck!" said Harry.

"Try again, Jimmy, and stick to him this time," counselled Wally, in a
fatherly tone.

"Oh, you shut up," Jim answered, re-baiting his hook. "I didn't catch an
old boot, anyhow!"--which pertinent reflection had the effect of
silencing Wally, amidst mild mirth on the part of the other members of
the expedition.

Scarcely a minute more, and Norah pulled sharply at her line and began
to haul in rapidly.

"Got a whale?" inquired Jim.

"Something like it!" Norah pulled wildly.

"Hang on!"

"Stick to him!"

"Mind your eye!"

"Don't get your line tangled!"

"Want any help, Miss Norah?"

"No thanks." Norah was almost breathless. A red spot flamed in each
cheek.

Slowly the line came in. Presently it gave a sudden jerk, and was tugged
back quickly, as the fish made another run for liberty. Norah uttered an
exclamation, quickly suppressed, and caught it sharply, pulling
strongly.

Ah--he was out! A big, handsome perch, struggling and dancing in the air
at the end of the line. Shouts broke from the boys as Norah landed her
prize safely on the bank.

"Well done, Miss Norah," said the Hermit warmly.

"That's a beauty--as fine a perch as I've seen in this creek."

"Oh, isn't he a splendid fellow!" Norah cried, surveying the prey with
dancing eyes. "I'll have him for Dad, anyhow, even if I don't catch
another."

"Yes, Dad's breakfast's all right," laughed the Hermit. "But don't
worry, you'll catch more yet. See, there goes Harry."

There was a shout as Harry, with a scientific flourish of his rod,
hauled a small blackfish from its watery bed.

"Not bad for a beginning!" he said, grinning. "But not a patch on yours,
Norah!"