The next shout that Edith gave was of so very decided and thrilling a character that Frank and Maximus darted to her side in alarm, and the latter caught the line as it was torn violently from her grasp. For a few minutes the Esquimau had to allow the line to run out, being unable to hold the fish—at least without the risk of breaking his tackle; but in a few seconds the motion of the line became less rapid, and Maximus held on, while his huge body was jerked violently, notwithstanding his weight and strength. Soon the line relaxed a little, and Maximus ran away from the hole as fast as he could, drawing the line after him. When the fish reached the hole it offered decided resistance to such treatment; and being influenced, apparently, by the well-known proverb, “Time about’s fair play,” it darted away in its turn, causing the Esquimau to give it line again very rapidly.
“He must be an enormously big fellow,” said Frank, as he and Edith stood close to the hole watching the struggle with intense interest.
The Esquimau gave a broad grin.
“Yis, he most very biggest—hie!”
The cause of this exclamation of surprise was the slacking of the line so suddenly that Maximus was induced to believe the fish had escaped.
“Him go be-off. Ho yis!”
But he was wrong. Another violent tug convinced him that the fish was still captive—though an unwilling one—and the struggle was renewed. In about a quarter of an hour Maximus dragged this refractory fish slowly into the hole, and its snout appeared above water.
“Oh! what a fish!” exclaimed Edith.
“Put in de spear,” cried the Esquimau.
Frank caught up a native spear which Maximus had provided, and just as the fish was about to recommence the struggle for its life, he transfixed it through the gills, and pinned it to the side of the ice-hole. The battle was over; a few seconds sufficed to drag the fish from its native element and lay it at full length on the ice.