The Parrot-fishes 335 
rush that the reel sang again, and Long John, 
unused to rods, stared in amazement at the bam- 
boo, and expressed the opinion that it was “dun 
fer.” I can recall no North Atlantic fish, except 
a large bluefish, with which to compare this 
_ gamy creature. It made a clean dash of at least 
one hundred feet down into deep water, evidently 
following the sloping bottom, then circled around, 
coming back when checked, stopping and evi- 
dently shaking its head, imparting to the rod a 
most erratic series of motions which seriously 
threatened its future usefulness. At times the 
rod was more than outclassed by this fish, and I 
considered it good fortune more than anything 
else that I succeeded in holding it at all. Now 
it was away, deep in the blue channel, then came 
rushing in, plunging down the coral wall by the 
side of which we were fishing. A gamier, more 
keenly active fish I never had played. For sus- 
tained and powerful resistance, it was a royal fish, 
and when finally it was brought to the surface 
after a hard contest, I saw that I had been play- 
ing a despised and, so far as anglers are con- 
cerned, utterly neglected parrot-fish. I was 
amazed. I was familiar with the young, and of 
all fishes it is to the eye the slowest, the most 
