CHAPTER VIII 



A TIGER OF THE SEA 



THE angler held a polished vibrant noibwood 

 rod with a grip of iron, but the line dangled 

 listlessly in the wind. It had come whizz- 

 ing at him with the coils of a snake a second before, 

 and his face had perceptibly whitened beneath the 

 coat of tan that one takes on along the Kuroshiwo 

 in California. 



" Did you see it, Jack?" he asked the boatman and 

 gaffer who had jerked the lever of the little launch 

 and was sending her inshore at the top of her speed. 



" Did I, sir? I think I did. You're the first gen- 

 tleman ever played a killer." 



" I don't know about playing," replied the angler; 

 u I only hooked him and he went into the air." 



4 Yes, sir," answered the gaffer; "but he was 

 hooked all right, and it was the old one that ran 

 under the line. Did you see that fin, sir? Five foot, 

 if an inch, and the light lavender half circle on its 

 back?" 



" Suppose I had caught it, and I think I could 

 have played it ; it was not over six feet in length, not 

 longer than a big tuna." 



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