one too."

"Lucky one!" At that moment Arthur was bitterly repenting his want of
foresight. Both hands were engaged now or he might have got out his
pocketknife and, unseen by Josh in the darkness, have cut the line,
which would have been supposed to be broken by the violent struggles of
the great eel.

"I'll never come again," he thought to himself, "if ever I get safely
back. I would not have come if I had known. Oh! what shall I do?"

These are a specimen or two of the thoughts that ran through Arthur
Temple's brains as he clung desperately to the line with the conger or
whatever it was at the end tugging and jerking at it hard enough to make
the boy's shoulders sore.

"Steady! steady!" cried Josh, interfering. "That's not the way to ketch
conger. Give him line, as I showed you afore. There, you see," he
continued, as Arthur slackened the cord. "Eh, 'ullo! Why, what's up?"
he exclaimed. "Here, give me hold."

Arthur passed the line to him with a sigh of intense relief, and Josh
gave way, hauled, and tried three or four different little plans before
passing the line back to Arthur.

"Here, you ketch hold," he cried. "It's a big one and no mistake. He
has got his tail twisted round a bit of rock, or he's half in a hole, or
something. Don't let him shake you like that, my lad, but give him line
when he snatches you. He's half in a hole as sure as can be, and if we
hauled we should only break the line."

"What are we to do?" said Arthur, his words coming in pants. "Shall we
leave the line and go?"

"Leave the line, my lad!" cried Josh. "Well, that arn't very likely.
No, no: lines are too vallerble, and instead of giving the conger the
line, we'll get him aboard."

"But how? It won't come," said Arthur peevishly.

"You must coax him same as I showed you before. Fishers wants
patience--waiting for what they catches, undoing tangles in nets and
lines, and dealing with conger. Don't you see, my lad, if you haul so
does the conger: he's frightened, and he fights for his life; but as
soon as you leave off hauling, so does he, and begins to uncurve and
untwist himself. Then's your time to haul him out of the rocks, before
he has time to anchor himself again."

It seemed to Arthur as if he had no power to disobey Josh. Shame, too,
supported the fisherman, for the boy had a horror of being supposed a
coward, so he acted precisely as Josh told him, giving and taking with
the line, but for some t