SEA FISHING 

 in the crannies of rocks uncovered at spring low tides. A conger takes 

 almost as long to die as a cat, and can keep enough moisture in its gills 

 to last it until the return of the tide. Some people find sport in trying 

 to drag them out with a gaff hook. It may, however, be so ordained that 

 the sport is all with the conger, since it is, as a rule, necessary to thrust 

 the arm that holds the gaff some way into the cleft in the rock. What has 

 happened before now is that the conger, by a sudden retreat, has dragged 

 the would-be captor's arm further into the rock before he could loose his 

 hold of the gaff, wedging it so firmly that he was overtaken and drowned 

 by the incoming tide, a terrible death to run the risk of for so poor 

 a reward. Those, therefore, n^inded to indulge in such amusement 

 should, at any rate, go in company, so that a rescue may be effected in 

 good time. 



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