38 Big Game Fishes 



whipped the glassy water with flies, but in these 

 early days of strenuous endeavor I doubt if I 

 once attracted the serious attention of the gray 

 snappers. Briefly, they ignored me, and the iron 

 was entering my very soul when one day as I lay 

 prone upon the beach, my line in hand, a Sacrata 

 boy named Paublo, who later became my boat- 

 man, came wading along with a cast-net slung 

 over his naked shoulders, stopped, followed my 

 line out, and as his bloodshot eyes rested on the 

 snappers he innocently asked why I did not 

 fish for them. There are times when the aver- 

 age angler finds solace in an appeal to high 

 Olympus; whether I did on this occasion, or 

 even added to my humiliation by taking Paublo 

 into my confidence, is immaterial. My reply 

 must have suggested that a doubt dwelt in my 

 mind that a gray snapper could be caught, where- 

 upon my companion proceeded to initiate me into 

 the art. He waded up the beach and with his 

 small bait-catcher, a cimeter-like iron barrel hoop, 

 cut down a number of sardine-like fishes an inch 

 and a half in length, which he called " hard heads." 

 From his shanty near by, upon which roosted 

 three tame asthmatic pelicans, he brought a line 

 of a pale blue color of about twenty-eight strands, 



