Sam put down his fishing-rod and kicked over a couple of stones looking for bait. "Here's a worm, look," he said, biting it in two and passing half to Dillard. "Stick it on the end of your hook."
"Ew." Dill screwed his nose up. "Isn't that a bit cruel?"
"Nah. They don't feel nuffin." Sam hooked the worm over the hook where wit wriggled like a creature impaled. Which it was. He pulled the rod back until it was perpendicular to his body and with a flick of the wrist sent it spinning out into the river.
Dill followed suit, though he tried not to imagine the worm's pain. He copied Sam's cast perfectly, but the hook plopped into the water without the worm. Sam?" he said. "The worm's fell off and a frog's eaten it. What do I do now?"
Sam glanced over. "Find another worm." He looked down. "Or any other bit of useless bait."