148 Big Game Fishes 
of the wharf was hooked to my knowledge five or 
six times, bearing two hooks proudly in its jaw, 
and trailed three feet of line. I hooked the same 
fish twice within two hours, and each time it broke 
the line by clever tactics. Its first rush was away, 
then, feeling the line, it invariably turned and 
came for the wharf like a race-horse, dashing 
about the piles and severing the line, almost 
immediately reappearing in its accustomed place 
by the side of the pier, up and down which it 
slowly swam in full view of the assembled anglers. 
That some fishes have an attachment for one 
another I am confident. A hooked yellowtail, in 
its attempts to escape, after exhausting all methods 
dashed down and squeezed under a hawser in 
twenty feet of water, so completely fouling itself 
that it could not move. I could see the unfortu- 
nate fish distinctly, and close beside it poised its 
mate or comrade of the same size, apparently 
endeavoring to aid it in escaping; and during the 
long time I watched the two fishes, the free 
yellowtail remained by its entangled mate. 
Singularly enough, the yellowtail, the com- 
monest fish in the Pacific, is not in great demand 
as a food-fish, and few are eaten, owing to some 
unreasonable prejudice, as when properly cooked, 
