I could not help laughing again at his mock-tragic and absurd way of taking things, and as I honestly felt that if matters were unpleasant it was all his own fault, he leaned toward me now with his eyes half shut and his teeth pressed together as he whispered close to my ear-- "All right. You'll be sorry for it some day, and then--" "Here's another, Dale! Quick!" cried Mr Denning. "Yes, yes, quick, quick," cried his sister, and I offended poor Walters again quite unintentionally by swinging one arm across his chest in my hurry and excitement to get to Mr Denning's help; and as I reached over the rail to get hold of the line, I felt sure that my messmate would think that I struck him. For the moment I felt vexed and sorry, then I could not help smiling to think how comic it was that I should keep on upsetting him. Then I forgot all about it in the excitement of righting the fish. "It's a big one, Mr Denning," I said, as we both held on to the line-- holding on now with it across the rail. "Let's give him a chance to run, and then haul in. Then he can run over again to tire himself." Mr Denning was too much excited to speak, but he nodded his head, and we let the line run, after I had placed one foot upon it to hold it down on the deck and check its race. Away went the fish, with ring after ring working off beneath my foot till only about three yards were left. "Stop it now," cried Mr Denning, and I pressed my foot down hard, feeling a curious quivering sensation run up my leg before I quite stopped the running. And now the fish began to rush in another direction, giving us an opportunity to haul in some of the line; but we soon had to let it go again; and every time I glanced at Walters, all hot, excited, and eager as I was, I could see that he was looking on with a half-mocking scowl. But the next minute he gave quite a start and seized the line, for the captain, Mr Brymer, and Mr Frewen had all come up on seeing that a fish had been hooked, and the former said sharply-- "Come, Walters, don't stand there with your hands in your pockets and let Dale do all the work." And again I upset my messmate as if it were a fatality, for I cried out-- "All right, sir, we can manage. Don't touch the line, Walters." "No; don't touch the line!" cried Mr Denning, and the lad shrank back as if the thin hemp were red-hot. Then amidst plenty of excitement and some of the crew coming aft, I helped Mr Denning haul and haul till the fish was gradually drawn so close in that we could see its failing efforts to regain its freedom. Apparently it was nearly five feet long, and its sides flashed in the clear water where it was not foaming with the lashing of the captive's vigorous widely-forked tail. "Bonito," cried the captain. "No, no, albicore," said Mr Brymer. "Suppose we wait till it's fully caught," said Mr Frewen, smiling at Miss Denning, when I saw her brother give him an angry look.