Tbe Jack 169 



" Swift speed crevalle" over that watery plain, 



Swift over Indian River's broad expanse. 

 Swift where the ripples boil with finny hosts, 



Bright glittering they glance ; 

 And when the angler's spoon is over them cast, 



How fierce, how vigorous the fight for life ! 

 Now in the deeps they plunge, now leap in air 



Till ends the unequal strife." 



My light rod bent almost double and was 

 tested in every fibre, as the long deep surges 

 came thrilling up the line. Now my game had 

 me fairly in the water, then I gained and backed 

 up the sands, reeling when I could, giving, taking, 

 drinking in the music of the reel, and anon catch- 

 ing a glimpse of the stolid countenance of the 

 Indian boatman, who followed my every move- 

 ment with amazement at the mysterious power 

 of what seemed to him a whip, to control so 

 powerful a fish. Gradually I worked the game 

 up the beach into shallow water, that my sport 

 might not be interrupted by the sharks, and for 

 perhaps fifteen minutes played and was played 

 and nearly outgeneralled by the fish ; then waist- 

 deep in the water, where it had forced me to 

 save the delicate line, I finally reeled it within 

 reach. 



Every day in June, July, and August the roar 



