THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



It was some seconds before I was straightened 

 out for a swim, with my head on top and a chance 

 to look around. The canoe was floating upside 

 down, the captain was swimming for the drifting 

 paddles, and the Camera-man sat in the motor 

 boat looking as if he were glad to see me again. 

 The tarpon had disappeared and I recalled with 

 regret that I had neglected to make the trolling 

 line fast to the canoe. 



It was a few yards' swim to an oyster reef 

 where the captain and I re-embarked and were 

 soon paddling for the Irene. It isn't worth while 

 to change the few garments one wears when fish- 

 ing for tarpon just because one has been over- 

 board, so we sat on the deck as we were and ate 

 clams on the half-shell while Joe made clam stew 

 for a second course and gave us our choice of 

 stewed smoked turtle or clams for the next one. 

 The Camera-man would neither eat nor talk till 

 he had packed away his precious plates. 



"Don't often get a chance like that," he re- 

 marked as he came out of the darkroom. 



"Did you wait for the smash, or do as you did 

 before?" I inquired. 



"I waited till the smash was sure, a little too 

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