"No, you couldn't. He's too big. They never catch catfish that way."

"I know I never caught a bullhead that way," admitted Russ. "But one
never lay so still for me. And right under this log! Here! You take the
spyglass."

"You'd better take care," advised the Southern boy.

But Russ felt very daring. It seemed that the fish lay only a few inches
under the surface of the brown water. If he could grasp the fish and
throw it ashore, how the other children would all shout! Perhaps Russ
Bunker wanted to "show off" a little. Anyway, he determined to make the
attempt to land the big catfish with his hands.

"You can't do it," warned Frane, Junior, creeping back a way so as to
give Russ more room.

"Don't say that till you see," returned the boy from the North. "Now,
look! I know just where he lies. Look!"

Russ had rolled his shirtsleeve up to his shoulder. He balanced himself
on the log, his head and shoulders overhanging the brown water. Suddenly
he made a dive with his right hand. Even his head touched the water, he
dipped so deep, and his cap went floating away.

And, wonderful to relate, his hand did seize upon the catfish. Perhaps
the fish had been asleep down there by the edge of the imbedded stone.
At any rate it was not quick enough to escape Russ Bunker's darting
hand.