The Haunts of ilte Black Sea- Bass 



ing. Whizz ! and the coils leaped again 

 into the air. Nothing could withstand 

 the rush --a header directly for the bot- 

 tom and away. 



The anchor had been hauled up by the 

 Mexican at the first strike ; and now, with 

 line in hand, we were off, the boat churn- 

 ing through the water, hurling the spray 

 over us, and bearing waves of gleaming 

 foam ahead. 



" Take in ! " cries Joe, who stands by 

 the coil ; and again, slowly fighting against 

 the dull blows, the line comes in. Ten 

 feet gained, and, whizz-eee ! as many more 

 are lost. In it comes once more, hand 

 over hand, the holder of the line bending 

 this way and that, trying to preserve a bal- 

 ance and that tension which would pre- 

 vent a sudden break. Now the fish darts 

 to one side, tearing the water into foam, 

 leaving a sheet of silvery bubbles, and 

 swinging the boat around as on a pivot. 

 Now it is at the surface a fleeting vision 

 followed by a rush that carries the very 

 gunwale under water. This, followed by 

 a sudden slacking of the line, sends despair 

 to the heart ; he is gone, the line floats. 

 No, whizz ! and away again, down. All 

 the tricks of the sturdy black bass this 

 giant of the tribe indulges in, except the 



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