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"Wait a minute or two and then get the brute to the surface, and I'll put a charge of big shot through him." "No, no; he'll break away if you do that," cried the mate. "I want to get him aboard if I can manage it. I say: the tackle isn't too big and coarse, is it, Mr Brace?" "I didn't expect you were going to hook a thing like this at the first attempt. Give him some more line."
Could the Jasper B., a bone in her teeth and her tackle humming, ever again sail through Cleggett's dreams? For a moment, if the worst must be known, he was almost disgusted with the Jasper B., considered as a ship. For a moment he was willing to believe that Cap'n Abernethy was nothing but a Long Island truck farmer, and NOT of a seafaring family at all.
Not having time, I was on the point of saying "No," when the door of 218, which lay about two hundred yards away, flew open, and out came Mr. Cullen, Fred, Albert, Lord Ralles, and Captain Ackland, all with rifles. Of course it was perfect desperation for the five to tackle the cowboys, but they were game to do it, all the same.
"And whether or no," he continued, "it seems a pity to let the canvas beat itself to pieces for no good, as it is doing now. Shall we stow it, sir? There is no occasion to call all hands, the watch is strong enough to tackle the job." I looked round once more at the weather.
Princeton, too, has seen many pairs of brothers "Beef" Wheeler, the famous guard of '92, '93 and '94 and Bert Wheeler, the splendid fullback of '98 and '99 whose cool-headed playing helped us win from Yale both in Princeton and at New Haven the Rosengartens, Albert and his cousin Fritz and Albert's brother who played for Pennsylvania the Tibbotts, Dave and Fred J. R. Church, '88, and Bill Church, the roaring, stamping tackle of '95 and '96 Ross and Steve McClave Harry and George Lathrope Jarvis Geer and Marshall Geer who played with me on teams at both school and college Billy Bannard and Horace Bannard Fred Kafer and Dana Kafer, the first named being also the very best amateur catcher I have ever seen.
The result was fatal and instantaneous. When the ship rose on the next wave, the boat was lifted by the bow out of the water until she hung from the davits, and a terrible cry was uttered as all the men were thrown out of her into the sea. Next moment the boat was plunged into the waves, the tackle snapt, and she was swept away. "Lower away the long-boat!" shouted the captain.
It was opposite the highest part of our bank the Hanyards was bounded by the river in this direction and the bridge was about one hundred yards down-stream to my left. In a few minutes a fine dace was swimming in the gap as merrily as the tackle would let him. For an hour or more I took short turns up and down the bank, just far enough from the edge to keep my cork in view.
It is full of "whereases" and "peradventures" and "heretofores" and similar swank, and there aren't any stops in it. It takes the legal mind, like mine, to tackle wills.
Then we roused out our fishing tackle and overhauled it, by which time, our breakfasts having settled somewhat, we made all secure within the tent and strode off in the direction my friend had explored on his previous visit. During the day we fished happily, working steadily upstream, and by evening we had one of the prettiest creels of fish that I had seen for a long while.
"Reade, old fellow," Dick answered solemnly, turning back from peering at one of the quiet pools in the creek, "you're a wonder at black bass fishing, no doubt. My tastes ran to another form of sport. Mr. Morton taught me trout fishing; he lent me his tackle before we started, and I have it over at the camp now.
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