A BOOK OF FISHING STORIES 



cane Leonard, an old and reliable and much-travelled friend — 

 I got round the bows, and was soon in a position to talk to my 

 impetuous antagonist. But he was an unconventional char- 

 acter, and tried the trick again as soon as I tried to check him, 

 and raced for the boat once more while I took in line for all I 

 was worth. Happily he kept a bit away this time, and, passing 

 the boat, he ran down wind at his best pace, ending this second 

 run with a Catherine wheel in the air, like a thoroughbred 

 ouananiche. There was nothing for it but to treat him with 

 all the respect and skill I knew, for he was a most disconcert- 

 ing customer. Eventually he condescended to come round to 

 windward, and I began to breathe more freely. 



Just then a horrible thought flashed into my mind. The 

 shoal we were over was studded with upstanding rocks. You 

 could see their tops below the water in calm weather, when 

 one could drift over them easily. But on a day like this it 

 was a different matter. Many of them were much too high ; 

 and there was one reef in particular I had no wish to come 

 upon — a long sharp edge, rising from goodness knew how 

 far down, like the crest of a broken pyramid. 



Just as this horrible recollection came into my head there 

 was a bump and a jar ! The stern of the boat stood still, and 

 my end began to swing round at a decidedly unpleasant angle. 

 My fair companion was fishing at the time. In the rolling 

 water the dark ridge had escaped her eye ; and she had never 

 been on that coast before. I could do nothing. I simply sat, 

 and held on to my rod. But she proved herself more than 

 equal to the situation. Indeed, but for her the story might 



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