148 Big Game Fishes 



of the wharf was hooked to my knowledge five or 

 six times, bearing two hooks proudly in its jaw, 

 and trailed three feet of line. I hooked the same 

 fish twice within two hours, and each time it broke 

 the line by clever tactics. Its first rush was away, 

 then, feeling the line, it invariably turned and 

 came for the wharf like a race-horse, dashing 

 about the piles and severing the line, almost 

 immediately reappearing in its accustomed place 

 by the side of the pier, up and down which it 

 slowly swam in full view of the assembled anglers. 



That some fishes have an attachment for one 

 another I am confident. A hooked yellowtail, in 

 its attempts to escape, after exhausting all methods 

 dashed down and squeezed under a hawser in 

 twenty feet of water, so completely fouling itself 

 that it could not move. I could see the unfortu- 

 nate fish distinctly, and close beside it poised its 

 mate or comrade of the same size, apparently 

 endeavoring to aid it in escaping ; and during the 

 long time I watched the two fishes, the free 

 yellowtail remained by its entangled mate. 



Singularly enough, the yellowtail, the com- 

 monest fish in the Pacific, is not in great demand 

 as a food-fish, and few are eaten, owing to some 

 unreasonable prejudice, as when properly cooked, 



