A LONG FIGHT 145 



line began to slacken, and he sailed out of the 

 one eddy into the other, and was now only 

 40 yards from the shore. Here he kept me 

 another hour a fighting monster at one end 

 of the line, and a persistent, patient, hopeful, 

 and hungry fisherman at the other : no 

 apparent yielding of either a sort of diamond- 

 cut-diamond performance. 



I was becoming desperate : time was going, 

 the sun was well up, the fog had disappeared, 

 the workmen were going to their labour, and 

 very little headway apparently was being made 

 towards ending the struggle. Again the line 

 was unreeled, and again the punt was moved 

 nearer the shore, in line with a rock that had 

 deep water beneath it. This brought me 

 within 20 yards of terra jirma. After the 

 slack line was again reeled, and the tension 

 put on him, I threw a stone into the eddy, 

 which started him towards the shore, and 

 behind the very rock wished. This was a 

 success, but the use of the gaff seemed a 

 distance off. It was now 7.30, and yet no 

 one had been near me to witness the sport, 

 although the mill hands seemed to be paying 

 more attention to me and the fish than to 



