THE "WHUSTLER" 241 



" That " was a large dorsal fin and half 

 of a majestic tail angrily protruding, and 

 then a long dark -blue back, as the 

 whustler, now thirty yards off, cleft his 

 way. 



Ronald handed me the rod imperiously, 

 and sat down to the oars, pushing out- 

 wards stern-first. There were about forty 

 yards of line left on the reel, and these I 

 was yielding foot by foot. Ronald's most 

 vigorous efforts with the back -watering 

 oars were scarcely sufficient to prevent 

 disaster. If I paid out no line at all, 

 something would break ; if I let it go 

 freely I should soon, with the same 

 result, be at the end of the tether. My 

 legs began to tremble : they did not seem 

 to be based on anything substantial. 

 Still, I contrived to speak with astonish- 

 ing composure : 



" What's to be done, Ronald ? " 



"Am thinkin', sir, ye'U better step 

 over to the bow. Then I'll turn the 

 boat, and be able to follow her faster. 

 Canny, canny 1 " he added, as I stumbled 



16 



