3i6 Life and Sport on the Pacific Slope 



would not strike. Despair draped us as with a 

 garment. Early rising and loss of sleep provoked 

 dyspepsia and irritability. My brother and the 

 boatmen stared askance at me: the odious word 

 "Jonah" festered in their hearts and trembled 

 upon their lips. I began to ask myself seriously 

 if indeed I had cast a spell upon these exasperat- 

 ing fish. The very newsboys eyed us with pity. 

 The outspoken sympathy of our waitress became 

 insupportable. The presence of an importunate 

 photographer was an insult. This wretch — he 

 was on the ragged edge of eternity more than 

 once — inspired in us a murderous hate: he dogged 

 our comings and goings ; he crushed us with inane 

 questions ; he turned us from Jekylls into Hydes ! 



But our purpose never wavered. We had come 

 to Catalina Island to kill a tuna ; a tuna — one at 

 least — must be killed. 



" Warburton Pike," said my brother, " spent two 

 years in the Arctic Circle after musk-ox. In this 

 lotus land we can, if necessary, pass the rest of our 

 lives ! '' 



But fate demanded no such sacrifice. According 

 to Jim, who had studied the habits of the tuna, a 

 pernicious ground-swell and the absence of flying- 

 fish were responsible for our ill-fortune, — a case 

 of cause and defect. One heavenly morning the 

 ground-swell was not, and the flying-fish were so 

 plentiful that they banged their heads against the 

 boat. 



"This time," said James, "we shall have a 

 strike." 



Ten minutes later I hooked a fine fish ! He 



