A few moments' pulling brought them to the bass ground, and George,
holding the stick on which the line had been wound in his hand, waited
impatiently for a "bite." They had hardly entered the ground when
several heavy pulls at the line announced that the bait had been
taken. George jerked in return, and, springing to his feet, commenced
hauling in the line hand over hand, while whatever was at the other
end jerked and pulled in a way that showed that he was unwilling to
approach the surface. The boys ceased rowing, and Frank exclaimed,

"You've got a big one there, George. Don't give him any slack, or
you'll lose him."

"Haul in lively," chimed in Harry. "There he breaches!" he continued,
as the fish--a fine bass, weighing, as near as they could guess, six
pounds--leaped entirely out of the water in his mad efforts to escape.
"I tell you he's a beauty."

Frank took up the "dip-net," which the boys had used in catching the
minnows, and, standing by George's side, waited for him to bring the
fish within reach, so that he might assist in "landing" him. The
struggle was exciting, but short. The bass was very soon exhausted,
and George drew him alongside the boat, in which he was soon safely
deposited under one of the seats.

They rowed around the ground for half an hour, each taking his turn at
the line, and during that time they captured a dozen fish. The bass
then began to stop biting; and Frank, who was at the helm, turned the
boat toward the "perch-bed," which was some distance further down the
river. It was situated at the outer edge of a bank of weeds, which