THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



sand feet above us, sweeping in great circles, ris- 

 ing, falling, and curving to right or left, moving 

 their wings no more than does a monoplane. 

 Others of the flock flew low, circling almost 

 within reach of our hands, displaying their tiny 

 legs and tremendous wings and inviting us to 

 throw scraps of food on the water to see how 

 gracefully they could pick them up. They made 

 exhibition of their skill as aviators by swooping 

 in turn on a school of little fish and capturing 

 their quarry without wetting their feet. The 

 little fish, in their turn, displayed qualities of 

 reason, or instinct, by fleeing for protection to 

 the side of the Irene. 



As the outgoing tide ran low, porpoises, tar- 

 pon, sharks, and other predatory fish rolled, 

 leaped, and darted about in the channels on their 

 way to the Gulf from their hunting ground in 

 the harbor. A hundred yards east of us came a 

 tarpon's high leap, five times in every minute, 

 and we put off in motor boat and canoe, which 

 we anchored thirty feet apart near where the tar- 

 pon had been rising. 



The Camera-man trained his seventeen- 

 pounder on the canoe while I let my bait trail 



