Grim is furious, and tries to bite and snap while the happy angler makes a guess at her weight by swinging the landing-net up and down in his hands. Ten pounds at the very lowest! No throwing this one back again!
So she was once more in man’s power, between his fingers and nails. The light made her eyes prick and smart, the dry air stopped the course of her blood and her scales rose in terror and pain. For the third time she was as it were in the heron’s throat!
Then at last she awoke, her sight returned and the breath to her red gills; her brain became clear, and she no longer felt that uncomfortable pressure on the back of her neck. Life was once more coursing through her veins.
She was in water, and with a stroke of her tail she made for the bottom. Oh! She had run her nose against a “stone!” She turned away and tried to go to one side, but there was another stone; there were stones all round her.
The fisherman had put her into the well of his boat. She would be all right there--for the present!
The well was full of small fish, which at her appearance immediately crowded together in a corner. She scowled at them, but although her stomach was empty, she felt no desire to eat. She remained perfectly still in the darkest corner of the well, and took note in her own way of what went on around her--the angler’s tread on the planks of the boat, his rattling with the oars and gear, his shouts and hailing of other sportsmen gliding past, fastened themselves in her memory. Now and again a “bushy plant” came down and waved its stalks and leaves about her head. She wanted to get away from the bush, and started with a stroke of her tail, but she ran straight into the landing-net. She could not tear the bushy plant, its numerous thick tendrils were so absurdly strong; and it increased her suspicion and gave her fresh experience.
Deep down, Oa follows the boat and listens to the ripple of the water against the keeled breast of the great “swimming bird.” The old hyena, who had fed on the carrion of the lake for more than fifty years, knew all about the fishermen. With her little blinking, bronze-coloured eyes, that lay floating at the sides of her head, right out where the nostrils are generally placed in mammals, she gives careful attention to the refuse that the fisherman throws out when he cleans the dead perch.
She dares not venture up to the surface. The sun is shining again, and there is no archipelago of water-lily leaves under which she can hide her head. She must wait patiently until her perquisites descend.
She also hears the splashing of the bird, and shouts and strange thumps on the boat-planks; and she keeps her blue-black pupils fixed expectantly upon the great dark shadow up there.
Who knows, some day perhaps a young one might drop out!