Tragic Fishing Moments 



it would pull the fish out of my hand or break the 

 line and I was afraid I could not hold him if he were 

 free. If I let go of the fish, ten to one he would 

 snap the line before I could get him again. But I 

 had no intention of letting go of that fish. So there 

 I lay, that bow boring deeper and deeper, a fifteen 

 pound anchor in one hand and a squirming, wiggling, 

 slimy eight pound Northern pike in the other, the boat 

 rocking up and down, and the waves slapping me in 

 the face. I felt foolish, I knew I looked foolish, and 

 I knew I was foolish; but I didn't give a hang 

 that pike was mine by all the laws of conquest and 

 I wasn't going to drop him until he was in the boat. 



Just then I heard the sound of oars. Twisting 

 my neck around, I saw a boat approaching and I gave 

 a yell : " Hey there, help ! Hurry up ! " 



The fellow rowed up to about twenty feet from 

 me, and dropping his oars he sat there calmly sur- 

 veying me. 



" What in thunderation ails you," says he. " What 

 ye layin' there for and what ye hollerin' for?" 



"Oh," I replied, "I always lie like this when I 

 am fishing, and I was just yelling for practice in case 

 I ever really did need help I would know just how 

 to do it. Now look here, old pal, just row over here 

 as quick as you can and give me a hand." 



" Why sure ! " he replied and then started toward 

 me. " What do you want me to do? " 



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