A BED OF BOUGHS 155 



Been of a pound or pound and a half weight. I re- 

 member one such, as black as night, that ran under 

 a black rock. But I remember much more distinctly 

 a still larger one that I caught and lost one event- 

 ful day. 



I had him on my hook ten minutes, and actually 

 got my thumb in his mouth, and yet he escaped. 



It was only the over-eagerness of the sportsman. 

 I imagined I could hold him by the teeth. 



The place where I struck him was a deep well- 

 hole, and I was perched upon a log that spanned it 

 ten or twelve feet above the water. The situation 

 was all the more interesting because I saw no possi- 

 ble way to land my fish. I could not lead him ashore, 

 and my frail tackle could not be trusted to lift him 

 sheer from that pit to my precarious perch. What 

 should I do 1 call for help 1 but no help was near. 

 I had a revolver in my pocket and might have shot 

 him through and through, but that novel proceeding 

 did not occur to me until it was too late. I would 

 have taken a Sam Patch leap into the water, and 

 have wrestled with my antagonist in his own ele- 

 ment, but I knew the slack, thus sure to occur, 

 would probably free him; so I peered down upon 

 the beautiful creature and enjoyed my triumph as 

 far as it went. He was caught very lightly through 

 his upper jaw, and I expected every struggle and 

 somersault would break the hold. Presently I saw a 

 place in the rocks where I thought it possible, with 

 such an incentive, to get down within reach of the 

 water; by careful manccuvring I slipped my polo 



