124 Big Game Fishes 
the yellowtails parting on either side, and presto ! 
the large bait disappears in the maw of the 
hungry hogfish. As it turns and attempts to 
descend the slender copper leader sags into the 
corner of its mouth, the point of the hook pierces 
its soft jaw, a streak of red and fading plumes and 
the fight is on. 
The great height of the hogfish and the power- 
ful tail enable the fish to make a fight which, 
when unseen, as is almost invariably the case, 
impresses the angler with the belief that a much 
larger fish is hooked. And so with my fish. At long 
range I estimated it at twenty pounds, as it nearly 
jerked me from my uncertain foothold, but no 
forty-pound kingfish or barracuda ever made a 
braver rush. Out it went, the silver reel singing 
a merry refrain, the fine threadlike line cutting 
the water with a hissing sound. The fish headed 
for the deep azure heart of the channel in some 
“dark unfathomed cave” to find shelter from this 
newand unseen enemy. Slowly pressure was placed 
upon the reel, down went the pliable rod, down to 
the danger point, the tip fairly at the surface, 
the reel giving way — ze — ze — ze! — to protect 
the line, then crying out z-e-e-e-e-e-e! as the fish 
made a strenuous rush. It was so far away now, 
