DAYS ON THE NEPIGON. 



line, and the reel, the while crying for mercy, 

 responds! generously as the rush of water 

 augments the trout's frightened dash for free- 

 dom. But you handle him carefully, giving 

 him line here, pressing an advantage there, and 

 keeping up a sort of electric communication, 

 though he never sputters a word above a 

 whisper, for he's not the fellow to whimper 

 when stung. He simply fights, beating the 

 current, dashing into the eddying rapids and 

 submerging his forward decks, up, down and 

 on the bias, shooting to the bank and return- 

 ing with reverse English, running and skulk- 

 ing on the bottom, with dogged obstinacy, 

 exhibiting everything in his repertoire, but, 

 mildly confound him ! never a jump. Aviation 

 is almost unknown to him. 



Finally, under the unrelenting spring of the 

 rod, his rushes grow more and more restricted, 

 the loud pedal is off, and he becomes quite 

 indisposed, then dangerously ill, hovering be- 

 tween life and death, with scarcely a chance 

 of recovery, for the struggle has become piti- 

 fully one-sided, and finally the gallant fellow, 

 62 



