ALBACORA 163 



the surface one hundred yards away, I made my only 

 mistake. I relaxed my good leg, which up until then 

 had taken the entire brunt of the battle. I tried to shift 

 my weight to get more pressure on my back, holding 

 on to the arms of my chair as I did. Instantly both feet 

 slipped off the footrest. I slid forward, and my face 

 cracked hard against the metal reel. 



"Don't touch me," I shouted. "Nobody touch me." 



A single helping hand on the rod would have dis- 

 qualified me. So no one moved. Then I was braced 

 and pumping again. I became conscious of a queer 

 empty space in the front of my mouth. I moved my 

 tongue across my upper gum, feeling the empty socket 

 with my tongue. I discovered a pointed stump, and then 

 I knew why it did not hurt. It was my porcelain crown. 



The fish came prowling toward the Explorer again 

 and I reeled in. This time, though, he came neither as 

 close nor took off with as much speed. 



"He's tiring," Lou said. "He feels a lot more bushed 

 than you do." 



"My eyes, Lou," I said. "Could you wipe the sweat 

 out of my eyes." 



Lou drew his handkerchief across my forehead and I 

 went back and pumped the fish toward the boat. Fifteen 

 minutes later he was close enough to gaff. Gus had suc- 

 ceeded Mario with the hook. He leaned out, swung hard 

 and nicked Bosco. But the fish thrashed and twisted 

 away. I clutched the reel and held it as hard as I 



