ything below seems to be all of a quiver and it
is not possible to make out the shape of anything."

"Haul slowly and steadily," said Briscoe. "I wish this thing had a
stronger handle."

"It would only break if it had, with such a big fish," said Lynton, as
he kept on hauling and letting the heavily-strained line fall between
his legs. "Do you see him now?"

"Yes, quite plainly."

"'Gator, isn't it?"

"No: a long, thin fish."

"Not a snake?"

"No, no: a fish. It looks five feet long at the least."

"Must be ten," panted Lynton, with a groan, as he continued hauling on
the line. "It feels as heavy as so much lead."

"Now then, be careful," cried Brace, cocking his double gun.

"No, no: don't shoot," cried Lynton, as he slowly hauled.

"Shan't fire unless he breaks away," said Brace between his teeth.

In the exciting moments which followed, and amidst a deep silence, only
broken by the flapping of the sail and the rattle of the water against
the boat's bows, Briscoe gently passed the gaff-hook over the side,
thrust it down into the water, and waited till the fish should come
within reach.

It only took four hand-over-hand hauls on the part of the mate, and
those who gazed excitedly on could plainly see a huge head, with gaping
jaws full of glistening teeth, upon its side as if completely spent,
offering its white throat to the sharp hook waiting to be driven in.

Another steady draw, and the fish did not move a fin. Then one bold
firm snatch, and the hook was holding well in the flesh, and in another
moment Briscoe, as he threw himself back on to a thwart, would have had
the fish over the side and in the bottom of the boat.

But at the first touch of the steel the monster curved itself round till
its tail touched its head, and then, with a mighty effort, went off like
a spring released by a trigger; there was a tremendous splash, deluging
everyone with water, and the fish leaped a couple of yards off the hook,
to descend with another splash.

As it divided the water, _bang, bang_, two sharp reports rang out from
Brace's gun, one charge tearing through the back of the fish, which beat
the surface for a few moments and then dived down, discolouring the
clear water with blood.

In another few seconds the stream was alive with fish of all sizes,
making the river boil as they gathered up every scrap, and greedily
drank in the blood, while it was evident that the wounded monster was
being savagely at