CASTING AFTER DARK 217 



it by your own greatest and most notable experience, 

 and you will have a faint idea what fighting a black 

 bass in Stygian night is like. The line rips through 

 the water with an audible sound, though the angler 

 can not see the broken surface. The bass leaps, 

 returning with a splash that sets all the nerves 

 agog, though the circles rushing away to tell the 

 story to the shore are invisible. The angler who 

 does not yield to panic is unusual, even the most 

 blase of rodsters will develop a case of nerves the 

 first night, flashing the electric light in all directions 

 but the right one. To happen to catch the bass in 

 the pencil of light just as he leaps, is comparable to 

 seeing a ship, full rigged, sail across the disk of the 

 round orbed moon just as it rises from its watery 

 bed. But this is an aside. 



To feel the rushing fish, the line thrumming as 

 he dashes this way and that in wild frenzy, or leaps 

 into the air with a rain of water, and not be able 

 to see him ; to be compelled to guess, from daylight 

 experiences, what he is doing, well may be dubbed 

 "angling that is different." To fight the fish by in- 

 stinct, reeling in and paying out line when you feel 

 that you must, as the line becomes slack or taut, will 

 try your skill, your nerves and your religion. Night 

 casting is "different," all right. The fish, tired, you 

 bring him at last to the boat's side, but the battle is 

 not over by any means, remains the netting. In 

 time you will learn to handle the net and flash with 



