The pupils seem to have little to learn, except to balance
themselves and to turn gracefully with a flirt of the tail. Not much
is taught but "deportment," and some of the old suckers are perfect
Turveydrops in that. The boy is armed with a pole and a stout line,
and on the end of it a brass wire bent into a hoop, which is a
slipnoose, and slides together when anything is caught in it. The boy
approaches the bank and looks over. There he lies, calm as a whale.
The boy devours him with his eyes. He is almost too much excited to
drop the snare into the water without making a noise. A puff of wind
comes and ruffles the surface, so that he cannot see the fish. It is
calm again, and there he still is, moving his fins in peaceful
security. The boy lowers his snare behind the fish and slips it
along. He intends to get it around him just back of the gills and
then elevate him with a sudden jerk. It is a delicate operation, for
the snare will turn a little, and if it hits the fish, he is off.
However, it goes well; the wire is almost in place, when suddenly the
fish, as if he had a warning in a dream, for he appears to see
nothing, moves his tail just a little, glides out of the loop, and
with no seeming appearance of frustrating any one's plans, lounges
over to the other side of the pool; and there he reposes just as if he
was not spoiling the boy's holiday.
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