he felt the glistening iron seized by something which held
on fast.

"Got him this time, zir," said Pete, with his face lighting up. "It's a
vish now. One o' they pike things, and not zo very big."

"Haul in quick," cried Nic.

It was an unnecessary order, for the line was rapidly drawn close
inboard, and Pete lowered one hand to take a short grip and swing his
captive out of the water. But he put too much vigour into the effort,
and flung his prize right over just as it shook itself clear of the
hook, and fell upon the gunwale before glancing off back into the water.
No fish, but an alligator about thirty inches long.

"Ugh!" ejaculated Pete; "and I thought I'd got a vish. Never mind,
Master Nic. We'll have zomething good yet."

His companion did not feel hopeful. It was evident that the water
swarmed with the reptiles, and in spite of the terribly faint sensation
of hunger that was increasing fast, Nic felt disposed to tell his
companion to give up trying, when suddenly there was a fierce rush after
the glistening hook as it was being dragged through the water, a sudden
check, and the water boiled again as Pete hauled in the line, sea
fishing fashion, to get his captive into the boat before it could
struggle free from the clumsy hook.

This time success attended Pete's efforts. He got hold of the line
close to the iron, and with a vigorous swing threw his prize into the
boat just as the hook came away, leaving the fish to begin leaping
about, till Nic stunned it with a heavy blow from the boat-hook pole.

"I knowed we should do it, Master Nic," said Pete triumphantly. "There
now, aren't it zummat like one of our big pike at home? Now, that's
good to eat; and the next game's tie up to the zhore where there's some
dry wood, and we'll light a fire."

"Yes," said Nic as he bent over their prize. "I suppose it's what they
call the alligator-gar, Pete."

"Dessay it is, zir; but I don't care what they calls it--Ah, would you?"
cried Pete, stamping his bare foot upon the great fish as it made a leap
to escape. Nic too was on the alert, and he thrust the ragged head of
the pole between the teeth-armed, gaping jaws, which closed upon it
fiercely and held on.

But Pete's knife was out next moment, and a well-directed cut put the
savage creature beyond the power to do mischief.

"A twenty-pounder, Master Nic. Wish it were one o' your zalmon. There,
I'll zoon clean him, while you run the boat in at a good