Uncle and the Bass 227 
How long we threshed around I do 
not know. Amused as I felt at Uncle’s 
actions, I could not help but feel wor- 
ried for fear he would lose the fish, for 
from the very beginning he had held 
on with all his strength, and every mo- 
ment I expected the hook to give away. 
At last, almost trembling from ex- 
citement, Uncle swung the fish close 
enough for me to give him the assist- 
ance he so badly needed. I hooked 
my thumb and fingers firmly in its 
monstrous open mouth—for we were 
without either landing net or gaff— 
and swung him into the boat. There 
he lay, a beautiful bass that afterwards 
we found tipped the scales at just six 
pounds, with distended gills and quiv- 
ering tail, while Uncle wiped the per- 
spiration from his face and cheered de- 
lightedly. 
If the fish had been hooked in any 
ordinary manner, of course we should 
have lost him, but he had pouched the 
frog and was hooked far down the gul- 
let, and nothing short of turning him 
wrongside out would ever have loos- 
ened the hook—which I think Uncle 
pretty nearly did. 
Well satisfied, we quit with three 
bass, the aggregate weight of which 
was twelve pounds. 

