THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



knuckles while the freed reel overran the line, he 

 yelled to his boatman to pull for his life. With 

 trembling fingers he picked at the turns in the 

 line which clogged his reel, knowing that the 

 hopes of the day, and perhaps of the season, 

 rested in the next few seconds. 



If the tarpon was quiet for a minute or two, 

 or the oarsman rowed as fast as the fish swam, 

 the sportsman had another chance in the game 

 he had fairly lost. Perhaps in an hour, or two, 

 or three, an exhausted fisherman looked on a 

 tired tarpon, slowly sculling beside his skiff and 

 inviting the stroke of the great gaff. 



Wood's Hole in Surveyor's Creek was the 

 Mecca of tarpon fishermen in the early days of 

 the sport. It was best reached by way of Es- 

 tero Bay, through Corkscrew Creek, and was 

 evidenced by letters of gold on a costly base. It 

 was recognized by tarpon as a refuge and three 

 out of four of tarpon that I struck far down the 

 stream selected Wood's Hole for their surren- 

 der. 



For a few years interest in the new sport in- 

 creased slowly. The habits and habitats of the 

 tarpon were not understood, and most of the 



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