384 Sporting Sketches 



with the spear ready and I holding the decoy string, 

 which I manipulated in such a way as to cause the 

 "minnow" to waver about, so that fish far below 

 could see the lure. We could see far down into 

 what was apparently bottomless green space. A sub- 

 marine jungle of streaming, brownish weeds spread 

 afar in every direction ; dim, shadowy caverns and 

 corridors showed faintly, and now and then a glint 

 of silvery light or a ghostly shadow seemed to drift 

 through them. I worked the minnow zealously for 

 nearly an hour, and at last something came rising 

 solemnly toward us. Just as I made out a pair of 

 glowing eyes, the spear shot viciously downward and 

 we had what proved to be a pickerel. It was a good- 

 sized fish and we felt encouraged. The next wait 

 was very brief. A big form flashed into view, hesi- 

 tated an instant, then vanished like lightning. The 

 spear made an impotent thrust, seconds too late, 

 and the spearman's voice exclaimed : " Gee ! what 

 was it ? " " It was a big bass, you chump, and you 

 let it get away ! " was my polite reply. Presently 

 another fine pickerel rose and was secured, and it 

 was followed by two others. Still I waggled the 

 decoy and the spearman remarked, " This is great ! " 

 Then he changed his position so that one of his boots 

 projected half its length over the hole. Neither of 

 us noticed it at the time, for we were intently watch- 

 ing something more interesting. Down below was 

 a half-defined shape a 'lunge, and a whacker in 

 comparison to the victims we had speared. For 

 seconds it rose so slowly that we could hardly see it 

 move; then it gave an unexpected dart and came 

 right into the hole. The suddenness of its rush 



