“About eight pounds and two and a half feet long,” Bob said as he hit the fish on the head with a small stick putting an end to its struggles.
“You were right when you said they weren’t fighters. Why I’ve had more trouble landing trout not a third as large.”
“But he’ll make up for it when you eat him,” Jack laughed.
Bob started the canoe forward again as soon as he had put a fresh shinner on Helen’s hook. They had gone only a few yards when Jack announced that he had a strike and as Bob glanced back he saw a streak of silver break through the surface of the lake, rise fully a foot above the water and fall back with a loud splash which could be plainly heard.
“You’ve got a salmon and a big one, boy,” he shouted. “Play him easy or you’ll lose him.”
Jack was reeling in as fast as his multiplying reel would permit but before he had the fish half way to the canoe a sudden rush jerked the handle of the reel out of his fingers and before he could apply the drag nearly all his line had disappeared.
“Back her up,” he shouted to Bob, pressing the drag as hard as he dared. “This line’ll never hold that whale.”
Bob was quick to grasp the situation and just as the last few layers of line were leaving the reel, the canoe began to move in the direction the fish had taken. This relieved the strain so that Jack was able to recover a few precious yards before a new rush in the opposite direction nearly jerked the rod from his hands.
“T’other way quick,” he cried.
Again Bob was able to get the canoe in motion in time to save the last few feet of line, but the manoeuver had to be repeated, with many variations, several times before the big fish was finally conquered. But after nearly an hour of battle he succeeded in bringing the exhausted fish within reach of the landing net and in another moment it was safe in the canoe.