“Don’t, don’t, you young idiot!” said Hugh, below his breath.  But the perch knew that the time had come when a perch must judge for himself.

The float curtesied and went under, and in another second the little independent was in the boat.

“There are other fools in the world besides me, it seems,” said Hugh to himself.

“He’ll do; but I wish he was a dace,” said Doll, slipping the victim into a tin with holes in the top.  “Half a dozen will be enough.”

They got half a dozen, baited and set the trimmers white side up, and were turning to row back, when Doll’s eyes became suddenly fixed.

“By Jove! there’s something at it,” he said, pointing to a trimmer at some distance.

Both men looked intently at it.  Crack felt that something was happening, and left off smelling the empty fish-can.

The trimmer began to nod, to tilt, and then turned suddenly upsidedown, and remained motionless.

“He’s running the line off it,” said Doll.

As he spoke the trimmer gave one jerk and went under.  Then it reappeared, awkwardly bustling out into the open.

“Oh, hang it all! it’s Sunday,” said Doll, with a groan.  “We can’t be catching pike on a Sunday.”  And he caught up the oars and rowed swiftly towards the trimmer.

As soon as they were within a boat’s length it disappeared again, came up again, and went pecking along the top of the water.  Doll pursued warily, and got hold of it.

“Gently, now,” he said, as he shipped the oars.  “He’ll go under the boat and break us if we don’t look out.  I’ll play him, and you shove the net under him.  Damn!—­God forgive me!—­we’ve come out without a landing-net.  Good Lord, Scarlett, you can’t gaff him with a champagne-opener.  There, you pull him in, and I’ll grab him somehow.  I’ve done it before.  Crack, lie down, you infernal fool!  Scarlett, if you pull him like that you’ll lose him to a certainty.  By George, he’s a big one!” Doll tore off his coat and turned up his shirt-sleeves.  “He’s going under the boat.  If you let him go under the boat, I tell you, he’ll break us.  I’m quite ready.”  Doll was rubbing his waistcoat-buttons against the gunwale.  “Bring him in gradually.  For goodness’ sake, keep your feet off the line, or, if he makes a dash, he’ll break you!  Give him line.  Keep your elbows out.  Keep your hands free.  Don’t let him jerk you.  If you don’t give him more line when he runs, you’ll lose him.  He’s not half done yet.  Confound you, Scarlett! hold on for all you’re worth.  All right, old chap, all right.  Don’t mind me.  You’re doing it first-class.  Right as rain.  Now, now.  By George! did you see him that time?  He’s a nailer!  Steady on him!  Bring him in gently.  Keep an even pull on him.  Keep steady!”

Doll craned over the gunwale, his arms in the water.  There was a swirl, a momentary glimpse of a stolid fish, face and heavy shoulders, and the boat righted itself.