THE TARPON AND THE TEMPEST 



maneuvered into its mouth. It was wasted 

 eff ort. The fish swerved aside from the bait and 

 a little more so from the canoe. We passed 

 through the column of tarpon without getting a 

 strike, but I continued to paddle and the bait was 

 still trolled. The captain had been instructed to 

 luff up and wait for us when he got two or three 

 miles ahead. But it was we who were two or 

 three miles ahead, between Sandy Key and 

 North- West Cape. 



"Better put up your rod and take a paddle," 

 I suggested. "We'll paddle up the coast to 

 Harney River or even to Pavilion Key. It will 

 make us think of old times." 



The answer came in the scream of the reel and 

 I turned in time to see the leap of a tarpon which 

 we had failed to see despite the clearness of the 

 water. Again the tarpon leaped, many, many 

 feet in the air, while with wide open mouth, gills 

 blurred to the sight, twisting body, and wildly 

 shaking head the gorgeous creature appeared 

 within a halo of rainbow-making drops. Once 

 more it leaped, but quietly, scarcely more than 

 breaking the surface of the water as it slipped 

 through it. The diamond sparkle of flying drops 



219 



