328 CHANNEL ISLANDS OF CALIFORNIA 



one's pulse went with it, one's spirits bounded, and 

 all one's senses ran riot in the delight of conquest. 



The bass had taken one hundred feet, to the bar- 

 carole of the reel; it was one single blare of sound, the 

 thumb pressing on the brake vainly trying to stop it. 

 Fifty, one hundred, two hundred, the music still rising 

 and falling, according to the heavy play upon the 

 pad. Then it suddenly stopped and the bass was 

 away, off somewhere, and down no one could tell how 

 far, playing and hammering on the line with sturdy 

 blows telling of a sulking, fighting mood. Then the 

 big reel started it, and the line as it rushed around cut 

 the water like a knife, making music of another kind. 

 The reel ate up the line, inch by inch, foot by foot, 

 the brave fish bearing away, keeping the line as taut 

 as a guitar string; the rod bent to the danger-point. 

 Suddenly it came dashing toward the boat, while the 

 reel was whirled about, only to stop as the fish rushed 

 away again, making everything sing, hum, and groan 

 as the crash came. Twenty feet were lost in this 

 rush, as nothing can stop fifty pounds of animation 

 when well started; at least the delicate eighteen-strand 

 line could not. Up and down the fish went; now in a 

 splendid circle, now coming in to make lateral rushes, 

 trying all the tricks it was' capable of. The fight con- 

 tinued until the angler's arms were weary. Twenty 

 minutes slipped away, then ten more, and the bass 

 was still fifty feet distant, hammering at the line, 

 which was as stiff as a harp string. 



But the end was near; the constant rushing and the 

 work of the reel wearied the game, which soon came 

 slowly in, circling the boat, now on the surface, its 

 dorsal fin cutting the water, always bearing off and 



