I had twice tried the same water without
success; nothing would admire my charming bait; when, just as it had
reached the favorite turning-point at the extremity of a rock, away
dashed the line, with the tremendous rush that follows the attack of a
heavy fish.
Trusting to the soundness of my tackle, I struck hard and
fixed my new acquaintance thoroughly, but off he dashed down the stream
for about fifty yards at one rush, making for a narrow channel between
two rocks, through which the stream ran like a mill-race. Should he pass
this channel, I knew he would cut the line across the rock; therefore,
giving him the butt, I held him by main force, and by the great swirl in
the water I saw that I was bringing him to the surface; but just as I
expected to see him, my float having already appeared, away he darted in
another direction, taking sixty or seventy yards of line without a
check. I at once observed that he must pass a shallow sandbank favorable
for landing a heavy fish; I therefore checked him as he reached this
spot, and I followed him down the bank, reeling up line as I ran
parallel with his course. Now came the tug of war! I knew my hooks were
good and the line sound, therefore I was determined not to let him
escape beyond the favorable ground; and I put upon him a strain that,
after much struggling, brought to the surface a great shovel-head,
followed by a pair of broad silvery sides, as I led him gradually into
shallow water.
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