CHECKMATING A TARPON 



bananas, and cocoanuts down through the alpha- 

 bet to sapadilloes and tamarinds. As evening ap- 

 proaches we sit on the sheltered piazza that over- 

 looks the bay and, if the tide favors, watch the 

 porpoises at play and, more rarely, witness the 

 dizzy leaps of a dozen or a score of tarpon each 

 minute. 



We were to leave the Girl at Collier's, for it 

 was a work-a-day trip with us and the chase of 

 the tarpon was likely to take us where the cruis- 

 ing boat couldn't go. We thought to stay with 

 her a week and take half a dozen tarpon a day 

 from the bays about us which we had known so 

 well and so long. The plan was a failure for we 

 were caught in the social whirl. We had a few 

 friends within motor boat radius and picnic, bath- 

 ing, shell gathering, and other excursions ab- 

 sorbed our time until at the end of three days, 

 without a single fish to our credit, we folded our 

 anchor and silently stole away. 



From Collier's Bay to Coon Key the channel 

 twists and turns among sand flats and oyster 

 reefs, between wooded banks and around tiny 

 keys without blaze or buoy, stake or sign to point 

 the path. After years of observation and prac- 



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