“No; I fixed it too tightly.”
Just then there was a yawn forward, and another from a second of the Indians.
“Waking,” said Rob. “May as well give it up as a bad job.”
“No, no, don’t do that, sir. You never know when you’re going to catch a big fish. Didn’t you have a try coming across?”
“No; they said the steamer went too fast, and the screw frightened all the fish away.”
“Ay, it would. But you’d better keep on. Strikes me it won’t be fishing weather to-morrow.”
Thung went the line, which tightened as if it had been screwed by a peg, and Rob felt a jerk up his arms anything but pleasant to his muscles; while, in spite of his efforts, the line began to run through his fingers as jerk succeeded jerk. But the excitement made him hold on and give out as slowly as he could. The friction, though, was such that to check it he wound his left hand in the stout cord, but only to feel it cut so powerfully into his flesh that during a momentary slackening he gladly got his left hand free, lowered both, so that the line rested on the gunwale of the boat, and, making this take part of the stress, let the fish go.
“Best way to catch them fellows is to have a canoe and a very strong line, so as he can tow you about till he’s tired,” said Shaddy.
“Is the end quite safe?” panted Rob, whose nerves were throbbing with excitement; and he was wondering that his new friend could be so impassive and cool.
“Yes, quite tight,” was the reply, just as all the line had glided out; and as Rob held on he was glad to have the help afforded by the line being made fast to the pin.