The Halibut 363 
some other way! If a shark would only take it; if 
the line would only break, or the hook; but noth- 
ing of the kind happened, the sockdolliger was 
evidently enjoying itself, the season for man-fish- 
. ing had opened well, and the anglers among the 
cod, haddock, lings, and halibuts were doubtless 
watching the sport with open-eyed admiration at 
the skill with which the game in a boat was being 
played and made miserable. The end was near. 
My “second wind” had come and gone, there 
was no hope in sight, and theoretically I began 
to look for a “soft place to fall.” I believe this 
is the correct expression. 
“How much did you say this fish is worth?” 
I gasped, bracing my feet against the rail during 
a particularly heavy plunge. 
“Why, I calculate a big fish like that’s worth 
twenty dollars,” was the reply. 
“If that’s the case, take the line,” I said, to 
show my magnanimity. 
“ Oh, I don’t want to spoil your sport,” rejoined 
the boatman. 
“That’s all right,” said I, airily. “Ive taken 
the freshness out of him.” How I wished I had! 
How I despised that sullen brute at the bottom 
of the sea ! 
