42 Big Game Fishes 
ciated the delight of the old monarch at the 
discovery of a new pleasure, for here was some- 
thing novel in sea angling. It was six or seven 
three- or four-pound black bass in one, rushing to 
the surface, breaking the water into crystal spray, 
plunging down, and bearing against the deadly 
reel in a long splendid lateral surge. Repeatedly 
the fish broke away from me, tearing the line 
from the reel, then dashing in, in an attempt to 
reach the old wreck, where on rusted iron it 
might sever the delicate line, — fortunately to 
be checked by my run up the beach. 
In and out, giving and taking, I played this 
gamy creature; and it played me for twenty min- 
utes, now near shore, again leading me out into 
the shallows until at one stage of the sport I was 
waist-deep, literally hanging over the edge of the 
channel, prepared to swim rather than lose this 
splendid fish which had unreeled every inch of 
the all too short line. But the gods which watch 
over the fortunes of the angler were with me, 
and I slowly backed the snapper into shallow 
water, then, having no gaff, and no gaffer to 
witness my triumph, reeled and led it inshore, 
holding it at short line, while I admired its beau- 
tiful proportions. It rolled its eyes at me in 
