362 Big Game Fishes 



down into the deep valley of Despair. My boat- 

 man lighted his pipe and asked me what I was 

 going to do when the remaining fifty feet of line 

 had disappeared. He was clearly in the sarcastic 

 stage, and I retorted by suggesting that he take 

 the oars and see what could be done. This 

 stopped the run, and by the most heroic and 

 muscle-rending labor I gained twenty feet on 

 the line, then lay back while that awful weight 

 dragged and surged and took the dory down 

 deeper and deeper. 



" Any of your folks ever have shocks ?" senten- 

 tiously asked my companion. 



I ignored the suggestion and held back with 

 desperation and hauled in vain; inch by inch, 

 foot by foot, the fish took the line, and it gradually 

 dawned upon me that the real fisherman was at 

 the other end ; the sockdolliger had indeed " sized 

 me up," and was playing me. It jerked my arms 

 almost out, took the skin from my fingers ; it 

 pulled me this way and that while ambling along, 

 now stopping to hammer me with sturdy blows, 

 then putting on a strain that nearly lifted me 

 from my seat, and the iron entered my soul as I 

 realized that I would have to ask for assistance. 

 If I could only have gotten rid of the fish in 



