182 Big Game Fishes 
hammers, and sulks, all in such rapid succession 
that the novice is fairly puzzled, recognizing the 
tokens of several fishes. With difficulty the fish 
is kept out of the kelp, but finally it rushes along 
the bottom, making for open water, and you have 
a clear field in which to play your strength 
against a very clever fish that shortly demon- 
strates its game qualities by taking the line in 
long and continued bursts of speed, which test 
rod, line, and the finesse of the angler, who wins 
only by careful work with the reel and thumb 
brake. 
Finally, after having been repeatedly stopped, 
the fish begins to come in on the reel, fighting 
every step, taking long lateral runs to dash 
alongside with an impetuosity that so demoralizes 
your amateur gaffer that he misses, and so the 
fish has to be turned again. This time it is on 
the surface, its great bands of jet and red, its 
enormous head and white underjaw, making it an 
extraordinary object. It lies for a moment flap- 
ping its big pectorals and rolling its comical red- 
rimmed eyes at you out of a sea of black —an 
appeal for mercy that is sometimes heeded by 
certain anglers who flatter themselves that they 
understand the language of fishes. Fishing in 
