A Little Miss and a Big Fish 



dramatic enough to supplant: "Goshamighty ! Yep, 

 you have a fish ! He's a whale, the granddaddy of all 

 rod-busters that ever swam with fins. He's a ge- 

 wholicker! We'll get him if you keep a stiff upper lip, 

 and a good bend to that toothpick of yours." 



In the meantime the fish, not at all abashed by the 

 commotion he was creating above him, was returning 

 to his native haunts via Astoria, as that was the only 

 way he could reach the ocean. He needed company, so 

 he was taking us along, too. We were halfway down 

 the island. Don't blame it on the current, for what- 

 ever current there was was upstream, due to the back- 

 ing up of the floods. My rod was bending nicely; 

 the line was departing from the reel with little staccato 

 yelps; and I was nursing my strength for the fray 

 which would soon be more exciting. I could feel the 

 mighty throb of the fish as he swam smoothly on, 

 with scarcely a twinge to make me believe he was at 

 all bothered about towing a rowboat with three people 

 around. 



Now the boat was trimmed for action. The rods 

 and lines were neatly placed in the bottom, Laura 

 was crouched in the stern. The gaff hook was by 

 Daddy's side, and he sat down in his seat with the 

 oars in his hands. 



" Ready," he commanded, and he pulled the oars 

 back with all his strength, while I pressed heavily on 

 the reel with both thumbs. Then the curtain rose. 



131 



