About the Swordfish, 103 



water, though the amount differs widely. Sometimes not 

 enough will be obtained to pay for the cost of the tunnel; 

 again, the supply of a town or a considerable area of irriga- 

 ted land will pour forth, and sometimes risk the lives of the 

 workmen who are opening its way. Many times a man living 

 near the hills can do much better by digging a horizontal 

 well into his hillside, and thus secure running water, than he 

 can by digging a vertical well and then be at the trouble of 

 pumping it to the surface. — Pacific Rural Press. 



ABOUT THE SWORDFISK 



Now the sword fish is a * queer critter.' Whether he weighs 



200 or 700 pounds, he is the same sly, ferocious, aggressive 



fellow — the most terrific foe a man can meet in the water, 



unless it is a man-eater shark, and porbably the swordfish can 



give even him some points. He is a vicious, aggressive 



fellow; actually malicious, wantonly ugly. His sword is a 



bony prolongation of his snout, often three feet long, and 



used as he can use it, it is a terrible weapon. He cannot 



only attack and even kill a whale, but will always attack a 



man, if he can get at him, and will not seldom attack a ship 



— burying his sword deep in the planking, and breaking it off 



— which serves him right, for this often kills the vicious fish. 



Well, our harpooner on the little Ocean View, being duly 



warned by a shout from the look-out, who has discovered a 



■ swordfish off the weather bow, gets ready to throw his lance. 



The fish, after filling up with mackerel — on which he feeds — 



floats near the surface, motionless, his sharp sickle-shaped 



dorsal fin alone sticking out above the water, and serving to 



betray his position. If the boat approaches 'across his bows,' 



so to speak, or 'headon,' he will lie perfectly still and let it 



almost go over him ; but you can't follow him from behind ; 



he is suspicious of that situation and is off. He can dart like 



a flash of lightning. No other fish has such power of force 



and swiftness in darting. It is this that makes his otherwise 



not strong and rather harmless sword such a formidable 



weapon ; a rifle, it is said, can drive even a tallow candle 



through a window-pane. 



The harpooner throws his lance, and buries it deeply in the 

 fish ; perhaps throws it almost clear through his vitals ; at any 

 rate, the strong barbed iron 'holds.' The instant the harpoon 

 is hurled, over goes the barrel, too, thrown by a person who is 



