THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



tice I can take a boat over the course, if the day 

 is clear, without running on a bank more than 

 once in three trips. 



Yet a boy to the manner born has piloted me 

 through the maze on a night so dark that I could 

 scarcely see his face as I sat beside him. He 

 chatted with me throughout the trip with his 

 hand resting carelessly on the wheel which he 

 idly swung to and fro without apparent thought 

 or purpose. His every act was so casual that I 

 had just figured out that we were hopelessly lost 

 somewhere in the Ten Thousand Islands when 

 he leaned past me to shut off the gasoline from 

 the motor. A minute later the boat rubbed gen- 

 tly against some object that I couldn't see. 



"Where are we?" I asked. 



"At your own dock," was the amazing reply. 



My captain carried us over the same course in 

 the same mysterious manner and I was only 

 sure we had passed Coon Key through the 

 broader sweep of the wind and the gentle rise 

 and fall of the boat on the slight swell from the 

 Gulf. Going down the coast I got my bearings 

 and felt rather than saw its familiar features. I 

 was conscious of the nearness of Horse and 



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