334 Recreations of a Sportsman 



human eyes ever looked into; it was indescrib- 

 able. I had seen the beautiful blue of the sky 

 in the Garden of the Gods, Colorado; had won- 

 dered at its tone and hue on the flanks of the 

 Sangre de Cristo; had seen the narrow river 

 of blue from the Grand Caiion of San Clemen te, 

 that was like a ribbon of indigo. But none of 

 these compared with the wealth of color that 

 stretched away to infinity in this splendid deep, 

 this abysmal world. Every definition of the 

 color flashed through my mind; azure, ultra- 

 marine, cerulean, sapphire, iris; all the results 

 of this espial, and all in vain, as mere words 

 failed to describe it. Deep in its centre was a 

 spot of gold of so strange a hue and tint that 

 it fascinated me like a great eye of topaz. It 

 was saffron; it flamed with lurid copper and 

 amber tints; it was aureate; it was a deep yel- 

 lowish green, coming nearer, and growing more 

 and more familiar, until the dregs of memory 

 came to my rescue, and I recalled where and 

 when, years before, I had seen this strange weird 

 color on the borders of the Sargasso Sea. I 

 knew it by its color alone, and shouted to my 

 companion that he had a dolphin, if not the 

 king of colorists of the sea, a near kinsman. 



My companion at once began handling the 

 game with the greatest care, as was this not the 

 fish we had been hunting for, covering miles of 

 water? Slowly he reeled, while I, still peering 



