As his hook, baited with a lively shiner, floated over the spot, a long, yellow object shot from out that shaded lair.
There was a splash, not unlike that made by the sharp edge of a paddle impelled by a short, powerful stroke, the minnow disappeared, and the broad tail of the fish flapped on the water.

The instant Alfred struck, the water boiled and the big fish leaped clear into the air, shaking himself convulsively to get rid of the hook.

He made mad rushes up and down the pool, under the canoe, into the swift current and against the rocks, but all to no avail.

Steadily Alfred increased the strain on the line and gradually it began to tell, for the plunges of the fish became shorter and less frequent.
Once again, in a last magnificent effort, he leaped straight into the air, and failing to get loose, gave up the struggle and was drawn gasping and exhausted to the side of the canoe.
"Are you afraid to touch him ?" asked Alfred.
"Indeed I am not," answered Betty.
"Then run your hand gently down the line, slip your fingers in under his gills and lift him over the side carefully." "Five pounds," exclaimed Alfred, when the fish lay at his feet.
"This is the largest black bass I ever caught.

It is pity to take such a beautiful fish out of his element." "Let him go, then.