Tragic Fishing Moments 



" Hang on to him, Laura," yelled Daddy, as he and I 

 feverishly drew in our lines and laid the rods and tackle 

 in the bottom of the boat. He picked up the gaff and 

 an oar to guide the boat, while I made myself as small 

 and out-of-the-way as I could in a dinky rowboat. 

 Laura reeled in madly. Then the fish turned around 

 and raced across the river. Down she pressed on the 

 line, making the fish fight for every inch he took. Fi- 

 nally he turned back slowly, and then it was her turn 

 to fight for every inch of line she could get. 



Slower and slower he came, with little jerks to the 

 line, until we could see the top of the leader through 

 the water. What luck to bring him so close with the 

 first breaking of water! Then we saw the finny 

 monster, his eyes gleaming, his sides the color of the 

 rainbow, opalescent blue shading into green, with glit- 

 terings here of silver, there of gold, his graceful pro- 

 portion swayed by his dorsal fin. Oh, but he was fight- 

 ing! Laura could not hold him long while there was 

 so much life in him. Now he jerked his head back 

 again. Why didn't she give him some line ? 



Daddy leaned over the side with his gaff, and then I 

 saw him shake his head just a little. I turned to look 

 at Laura impatiently, for the fish was jerking fiercely 

 at the line, and I was afraid he would break it. She 

 had frozen on the reel. Her eyes were staring fixedly 

 at the fish, as though she were hypnotized by those glit- 

 tering eyes, and her knuckles were white with the cords 



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