“No time to be admirin’ fish scales,” declared Bunte. “Can’t ya hear that starboard bell? Ef ya don’t git ’em in ya’ll lose ’em. Try gittin’ this ’un in without no gaff hook. When ya git ’em next the boat, don’t jerk, just a steady hoist over the side, an’ see ya don’t make me use the gaff ta git you out of the bay.”
In the next five minutes, seven salmon, ranging from four to nine pounds, were heaved on to the deck by the excited girl. The fish were small compared to the giant she had caught in the morning but they were as large as the usual run. Bunte stood by and issued instructions, but Clem took the thrill each time—the jerking, swishing line, the glimpse of the fish just under the water, the weight of the dangling beauty, the flash of silvered sides as the salmon flopped upon the de
