34 Sporting Sketches 



scrub I saw the familiar shape and the white scar. 

 This time thanks to the cold-water treatment 

 the fish was alone. I warned Jack, and then stole 

 upon the quarry. A few yards above where it lay 

 was a very shallow little rapid, the water sliding, six 

 inches deep, over a sort of slope of hard blue clay. 

 There Jack stationed himself in a rickety sort of 

 way to head off the fish in case I missed it. As 

 he left me he said, " Ef you mish um again an' 

 I bet you do you watch me nail um ef he tries to 

 monkey with me ! " 



To be candid, I did miss him. How or why the 

 cider can explain. I had a fair, open chance ; the 

 fish never stirred till after the grains plunged into 

 the water at least six inches to one side, but it was 

 a palpable " lost bird." The big pike was slow in 

 its movements, and Jack had plenty of warning 

 before the shovel-nose showed in the rapid right at 

 his feet. He jabbed once, twice, thrice, with short, 

 swift movements, like a yellow hen pecking corn, 

 but he missed. I could have run to the scene in 

 time to have tried a shot myself, but the picture was 

 altogether too funny for me to tamper with. As he 

 missed the third try, he ran forward into the water, 

 stumbled, and landed on his feet and hands. He 

 got pretty wet, but was up in an instant and, as the 

 fish showed at the very head of the little rapid, he 

 swung his spear aloft, and brought it down with a 

 smashing two-handed blow, as an old dame handles 

 an axe. The shaft snapped, but the grains hap- 

 pened to land flat on the pike and left it dead. The 

 next swirl of water brought the -long, mottled body 

 to Jack's hand and he stumbled to terra firma with 



