314 Life and Sport on the Pacific Slope 



steered a truer course than he. And the light boat 

 followed. I lit a pipe and smiled complacently. 



" It 's all right — eh, Jim ? " 



" All right ? Not much ! It 's never all right 

 with a tuna till he's in the boat." 



We skimmed over the water faster than a man 

 could row; then without warning, the boat slack- 

 ened speed. The fish was sounding and sulking. 

 My brother smiled for the first time, and held up 

 his left hand, which was trembling. 



"Don't you rest, sir," said the relentless James. 

 " Lift him — lift him ! When he takes it easy, you 

 worry him." 



My brother sighed and obeyed — using his left 

 leg as a lever. Five minutes' pumping brought the 

 tuna with a rush to the surface; Jim, backing 

 water, approached the quarry, and some forty feet 

 of line were reeled in. Then the tuna sounded for 

 the second time, and the forty feet of line hissed 

 back through the rings. 



" He 's a big 'un," observed Jim. " It may take 

 three hours of this work to kill him ! " 



My brother's dream flitted across my memory. 

 A glance at his face was not reassuring. Fifteen 

 minutes' excitement and hard manual labour had 

 set their seal upon him. The tuna could stand 

 severe punishment; of my brother's capacity for 

 the same I was not so confident. 



" This ain't a game of croquet," said Jim, crown- 

 ing my unspoken conclusions. " There was X . 



He was blooded, too, but it came near killin' the 

 old man. After the fish was gaffed he lay in the 

 bottom o' the boat, limp as a dish-rag — petered 



