This we did for a few minutes, when I began to pull in the slack of my line, some fifty feet or more, when I felt my fish. The check was no sooner felt by him than he started forward with a velocity scarcely conceivable in the water, bringing my line taut, and the next moment our skiff was moving off stern foremost towards the river’s channel. We soon perceived that our fish had turned his head up stream, and as the water was deep, there was no danger of his coming in contact with weeds or protruding rocks. We therefore allowed him to tow us for about five minutes, when he stopped. Then quickly backing water with our oars, and taking in our line, we carefully laid it over the skiff’s side, until we had approached within twenty feet of our fish. I then gave him another check, which probably turned his head, for he again darted off in a contrary direction down stream. We pulled our skiff in the same direction as fast as possible to give the fish a good run before checking him again, but he soon had the line out its full length, and was again towing our skiff after him with more rapidity than before. This did not last long, however, for I then took the line and hauled towards him to lessen our distance. He made another slap, when I managed to keep my line taut, and with our oars moved towards him. Our victim now lay on the surface of the water with his belly upward, apparently exhausted, when we found him to be a maskinonge, between five and eight feet in length. We had no sooner got him alongside than he gave a slap with his tail and again darted off the whole length of the line, taking us once more in tow. His run was now short, and it was evident he was getting tired of the business. Again the line slacked and we drew the skiff up to the spot where he lay turned up on his back.