Mark North carefully leaned backwards with his fishing pole – double checking to make sure his hook and sinker were clear – and cast the line just short of the cattails growing beside the bank. The small red bobber danced gently on the surface. He settled back with a satisfied smile and glanced at the elderly gentleman sitting across the boat from him. Brother Vernon Baker wore a battered straw hat decorated with half a dozen hooks and lures.
“So, Elder, how was that for a cast?”
Brother Baker glanced up from baiting his hook. “Not bad. But there is a nasty tangle of branches just below the surface in that spot. Good place to lose a line.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?
Brother Baker flashed a wide grin. “You didn’t ask.”
Mark slowly shook his head and then smiled back. “Oh well. Perhaps it won’t get tangled. I’ll catch that big one yet – you’ll see.”
“What I’ll see is you losing your bait,” Elder Baker replied. “If you do hook one, he’ll dive straight into those branches and that’ll be the end of it. If you’re smart you’ll reel that line in and recast.”
Mark pondered this, then sighed. He knew the aged pastor was right. Carefully he began to reel his line in.