Regularly, every slack water,
without slyness, boldly and openly in the broad day, Big Alec was
to be seen running his line. And what made it particularly
exasperating was the fact that every fisherman, from Benicia to
Vallejo knew that he was successfully defying us. Carmintel also
bothered us, for he kept us busy among the shad-fishers of San
Pablo, so that we had little time to spare on the King of the
Greeks. But Charley's wife and children lived at Benicia, and we
had made the place our headquarters, so that we always returned to
it.
"I'll tell you what we can do," I said, after several fruitless
weeks had passed; "we can wait some slack water till Big Alec has
run his line and gone ashore with the fish, and then we can go out
and capture the line. It will put him to time and expense to make
another, and then we'll figure to capture that too. If we can't
capture him, we can discourage him, you see."
Charley saw, and said it wasn't a bad idea. We watched our chance,
and the next low-water slack, after Big Alec had removed the fish
from the line and returned ashore, we went out in the salmon boat.
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