bank, steadily, while I stood at her side without touching her, but with
a hand ready in case of a slip or a misstep. Frenchy followed us,
carrying a big landing-net and a gaff. His face bore a wide grin and he
was jumping with excitement.

The fish turned and took a run up the pool, again shooting out of the
water in a splendid leap. Then he turned once more, giving Miss Jelliffe
a chance to reel in some line. For a short time he swam about slowly, as
if deeply considering a plan of conduct. At any rate this was followed by
furious fighting; he was up in the air again, and down to the bottom of
the pool, and dashing hither and yon, the line cleaving the water. At
times he seemed to try to shake his jaws free from the hook. Miss
Jelliffe was now pale from the excitement of it. Her teeth were close
set, excepting when she uttered sharp little exclamations of fear and
renewed hope. But always she met his every move, deftly, and was quick to
follow my words of advice. Then followed a period of sulking, when he
went down deep and refused to budge, with the tense line vibrating a
little with the push of the current. I began to meditate on the wisdom or
folly of throwing a stone in the water to make him move, but suddenly he
cut short my cogitations and shot away again, heading up-stream.

"Fight him just a bit harder, Miss Jelliffe," I advised. "Don't allow him
to get rested and try to put a little more strain on the rod; it can
stand it and I'm sure he's well hooked."

"But my arms are getting paralyzed," she complained, with a little tense
laugh. "They are beginning to feel as if they would never move again."

"I should be glad to take the rod," I said, "but afterwards you would
never forgive me. I know that you want to land that fish yourself."