Tlu Haunts of the Black Sea-Bass 



a wondering pair of eyes that stared at us, 

 telling of a sea-lion making the grand 

 rounds; while the leaping forms near the 

 shore were seals, bound for their rookery 

 around the bend. The whistle of plumed 

 quail came softly over the crags from the 

 neighboring canon, and the gentle, musi- 

 cal ripple of the waves lulled us to fan- 

 cied repose. 



I had been watching the interesting face 

 of my Mexican guide, wondering at his 

 life, when I noticed his eyes suddenly 

 grow large ; then he lifted the line gently 

 with thumb and forefinger. It trembled, 

 thrilled like the string of a musical instru- 

 ment touched by some player beneath the 

 sea. Slowly it took his fingers down to 

 the water's edge. 



A bass ? Yes. No snap, no sudden rush, 

 no determined break for liberty as I had 

 seen the black bass make. I was disap- 

 pointed; a simple drag. But the Mexican 

 smiled, and passed me the line, arranging 

 with the other hand the coil in the bot- 

 tom of the boat. 



" He's a young one," he remarked. 

 "Pay him out ten feet, then jerk, an' stan' 

 clear the line." 



These instructions took but a few sec- 

 onds, yet the line was now gliding through 



171 



