112 JACK AT IFORD. [PART I. 
threw gradually up in the direction he pointed 
out to me. After two or three throws I suc- 
ceeded in hitting the place and moving the big 
one. “He’s coming, Sir,’ said he. “No: he’s 
left it again. My G— what a fish! there, he’s at 
least three foot long,” and several times he re- 
peated the same thing, saying that he could see 
him distinctly, and that he was “at the very least 
three foot long.” Of course I concluded that this 
was the big fish, and was proportionably anxious 
to get him. Several times I threw “just right for 
him” (the man said), and once or twice he lazily 
followed the bait, returning after each such feint 
to his former position. -By this time my bait was 
getting very much the worse for wear, and the 
reserve was in the boat, a good way up the river. 
However, at last, seeing that he really seemed too 
indolent to follow the bait, I thought I would 
humour him, and see whether he would take it, 
if it waited for him. Accordingly the next time 
he came at it, I stopped it entirely. This attention 
was too delicate for him: he could not resist it,— 
and, without a pull or an effort, just closed his 
mouth upon it. “He’s got it, Sir,” shouted my 
fugleman; “Well, you have got a fish now.” I 
“jabbered it into him,” and feeling that it was 
