268 Life in the Open 



backward, the angler is pressing upon the brake and lift- 

 ing with all the power the line will stand. Five hundred 

 feet as a red dot flashes up the rod ; then the pressure 

 stops, the first rush is over, and the angler slowly lifts 

 the slender rod, which is bending to the danger point, 

 yet holding. The boatman has stopped the engine and 

 that angling miracle is seen, a tuna towing a heavy 

 launch by five hundred feet of a number twenty-one 

 thread line. It is asserted by some who have not seen 

 it that this is an impossibility, yet it is done every day 

 when the tuna are biting along the isle of summer. 



The fish is slowly rising ; the school has passed on, 

 and the singing of distant and other reels is heard. 

 Enthusiastic, but less fortunate, anglers pass by, and 

 rise to give the sportsman cheer and wish him good 

 luck ; they are warned by the boatman, who considers 

 social amenities totally out of order, to keep away from 

 the line, as any man with a fish hooked is entitled to 

 the field. Up comes the tuna, imparting to the line a 

 quivering motion until it reaches the surface, when it 

 turns and comes along the surface like an arrow. 



The angler springs to his feet, that he may see the 

 splendid move, and reels for his life. No power, no 

 multiplier, could eat up the line to match this racing 

 steed that comes on and on, a blaze of silver, gold, and 

 blue, tossing the water within ten feet of the boat, 

 where it turns in a miniature maelstrom and is away. 

 But the angler meets it, stops it again ; and so the 

 battle goes on, and an hour slips away. 



