A Dive for a Big Fellow 



selected. Much now depended on the line and the 

 rod. Both held in spite of a terrific strain, and the 

 bass concluded to come back a bit and go upstream 

 again. He did, not only once but several times. 



By luck he was held out of the tree roots, and into 

 the current, which had some advantages for him, and 

 more for me. Finally he began to tire, to come to 

 the top, and I could see him plainly in the dark, clear 

 water. His red eyes glistened and his great fins 

 worked back and forth. My heart beat like a trip- 

 hammer, and I was frightened. I had hooked a bass 

 so big and so strong that I didn't know what to do 

 next, nor what the end was going to be. Then there 

 came a change in the battle. The red-eyed warrior 

 was visibly tiring and his efforts were becoming 

 weaker. Slowly I worked back on the big roots, on 

 which I had crawled out, holding the fish out from 

 the tree, and now apparently exhausted on the top of 

 the water. 



At last I reached the bank below the tree. It was 

 rocky, but not so steep, and I was soon at the wa- 

 ter's edge, the great bass almost within my grasp. I 

 thought he was done for, that he was beaten, that I 

 had him. I bent and reached for his lower jaw, and 

 at that cursed moment the gut on the hook, frayed to 

 a shred, snapped in two and the big bass was free. 

 He floated for an instant and then convulsively 

 started for the bottom. Like a flash I threw the rod 



71 



