Tragic Fishing Moments 



other leap and it seemed as if he would shake his 

 head off, but still the hook held. 



" Well, old boy," says I, " I guess you are hooked 

 good, and in that case you are mine. You weigh 

 more than seven pounds, and you represent one first- 

 class reel. So just be good now and you and I will 

 be real good friends." 



Again he gave up and came quietly toward the 

 boat, swimming close to the surface. As he neared 

 the boat I looked around to locate the landing net, 

 as I did so, I heard a splash and felt a sudden slack- 

 ing of the line. Turning quickly I saw the line dis- 

 appearing under the boat. He had caught me nap- 

 ping. And then it was that a horrible thought struck 

 me: "The anchor rope!" 



Reeling in as fast as I could, I leaped to the stern, 

 and plunging my tip I carried the line around the 

 boat and reeled in the slack, but there was no re- 

 sponse. The awful thing had happened he was 

 snagged on the rope. 



The tragic moment had arrived. Dropping the rod, 

 I fairly threw myself to the bow of the boat. Kneel- 

 ing on the bow seat I grabbed the anchor rope. I 

 could feel him he was still there ; but that reel was 

 fading out of my tackle box. 



I pulled frantically at the rope and nearly succeeded 

 in sinking the boat. I call it a boat by courtesy only 

 it was one of those narrow, straight-sided affairs, 



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