THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



its excitements of apprehension and relief, it 

 seemed to me that hours must have passed since 

 the engine was started and the bow of the Irene 

 pointed down the crooked creek. But the 

 emotionless clock with its unhurried beat de- 

 clared that the trip had been made in less than 

 four minutes. 



Tarpon were jumping in the river and we 

 went out in the canoe to make their acquaintance, 

 but found them too coy for our purpose. I cast 

 and trolled for an hour before getting a strike 

 and then the quarry was a ravaille. The fish 

 was game and leaped out of the water in a way 

 that would have been highly creditable to a 

 salmon, though it would have disgraced a de- 

 crepit tarpon. When I finally struck a tarpon it 

 was too heavy to be played advantageously with 

 a fly-rod and the Camera-man complained that 

 he couldn't get the canoe and the tarpon on the 

 same plate if we kept them a mile apart. For 

 the rest of the day we used the heavy rod, but 

 the few fish we struck fled to narrow channels 

 and gave acrobatic performances where the motor 

 boat could not be maneuvered. 



We arranged to anchor for the night beside 

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