Page 92 - A Little Bush Maid

FTSHTNG

The party had for some time been walking near the creek, so close to it that

it was within sound, although they seldom got a glimpse of water, save
where the ti-tree scrub on the bank grew thinner or the light wind stirred an

opening in its branches. Now, however, the Hermit suddenly turned, and
although the others failed to perceive any track or landmark, he led them
quickly through the scrub belt to the bank of the creek beyond.

Tt was indeed an ideal place for fishing. A deep, quiet pool, partly shaded

by big trees, lay placid and motionless, except for an occasional ripple,
stirred by a light puff of wind. An old wattle tree grew on the bank, its
limbs jutting out conveniently, and here Jim and Wally ensconced

themselves immediately, and turned their united attention to business. For a
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. Tt 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, T’m blessed!" said Jim wrathfully.

"Hard luck!" said Harry.

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

fatherly tone.