MESSING AROUND IN MEXICO 



IT was during that fishing and hunting trip 

 to the San Bias coast of Central America 

 that I was first seized with an acute interest 

 in the Gulf of California. Salisbury, my com- 

 panion on that trip, had talked about it some- 

 what after this fashion: 



"I've been where the fish were so hungry I 

 had to stand back of a tree to bait my hook, 

 but in the gulf you don't have to bother with 

 bait at all. They'll bite the propeller of a 

 launch. All the bait you need is a rag. You 

 can't troll it fifty feet before a fish will nab it. 

 Before you can reel him in, a bigger fish will 

 have him, and another one still bigger will grab 

 that one, and then a whopper will nail fish 

 number three and and why, it's merely a 

 case of fitting one fish over another until your 

 tackle breaks!" Salisbury was panting; in 

 his eyes was that mounting maniac glare 

 which every sportsman recognizes as true 



216 



