AN ANGLER AT THE ANTIPODES. 17 
after losing that kraken; but here goes for my 
chance. And now the lines are in, will you take a 
sup of sherry? (Puts flask to his lips and takes a 
consolatory pull.) Ah-h-h! 
Veteran. No sherry, thank you; one of your 
cheroots, if you please. (They smoke for ten minutes 
in silence.) 
New Chum. This is getting slow—I thought the 
fish were going to feed about this time. 
Veteran. We'll see our cheroots out before we 
stir at all events. These fish have their sudden fits 
of sulk, like trout, and then come on the feed all at 
once. JI mean mischief yet. Ay—there he was 
sure enough; just lifted my bait and dropped it again. 
New Chum. No wonder, when you offered him 
such a lump—“ steak for three” at least. I shall steal 
a march on you yet—there was a smart jerk—and 
another—take your time, Miss Lucy—now for it, 
gristes or grief! I have him, safe I hope. Well 
pulled, my friend! but indeed you must come in. 
Easy there over the shallow. 
Veteran. Well hauled! the sooner you land him 
the better: there’s a customer for the steak, and I 
don’t think he'll drop it this time. How steadily the 
rascal walks away—are you all clear? 
New Chum. Ay, “there he lies,” as we used to 
say when cock-shooting in the old country. And a 
bonny fish, too, much like your first specimen. 
