RIDING THE BREAKERS 



frightened us we shall never know. The great 

 body sank slowly until it was several feet beneath 

 the surface when a mighty stroke of the wings 

 of the creature sent against us a column of water 

 that nearly capsized our canoe. 



As we paddled up the coast we passed pelicans 

 rising and falling on the surface of the slow- 

 moving rollers that swept under them. Often a 

 long bill was thrust deep into the water and the 

 next instant pointed at the zenith, holding a 

 struggling fish athwart-ship. With a deft toss 

 the quarry was sent up in the air and descending 

 head first landed in the fisher's pouch. Tarpon 

 leaped fearlessly around us, knowing, perhaps, 

 that one of their number had possessed himself 

 of our only tarpon line. 



At Gasparilla Pass the tide was still running 

 out and the big waves broke across it, but the 

 channel was shallow and narrow, the current not 

 strong, and the breakers half the height of the 

 waves of Boca Grande. The passage of the pass 

 was delightful enough to mark with red letters 

 a season's vacation. We held the canoe on the 

 front of a wave through successive breakings, 

 when it tossed us about and covered us with 



