THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



Awkward though they appeared, they seldom 

 missed their prey. When we reached Boca 

 Grande a mighty flood swept us swiftly and 

 smoothly toward Charlotte Harbor, while tar- 

 pon leaped high in air and smaller fish sported 

 around us. 



"Is this the pass that was too rough for me 

 to come to?" inquired the Girl. 



"Same pass, hut on its good behavior, which 

 doesn't happen often," said I. 



"May I fish in the pass, now that it is good?" 



"Yes, if you'll sit still on the bottom of the 

 canoe, whatever happens." 



"I won't move, unless a tarpon comes aboard." 



"That's more likely to happen than you 

 think." 



A sinker had been fastened to the line for the 

 last few casts in Captiva Pass and when the 

 Girl dropped the hook overboard as we drifted 

 it sank swiftly for some ten fathoms. 



"Something is hold of the line!" she ex- 

 claimed excitedly. 



"Caught in the rocks I- 



I never finished the sentence, for a great body 

 shot out of the water, grazing the starboard side 



78 



