i6 Tarpon Fishing in Mexico. 



when in the boat, and the work is three times as hard. He 

 suddenly and for the eighth time hurls himself out of the water. 

 Only half his length gets clear, but his object is accomplished, and 

 my line once more springs back empty. I am convinced that the 

 Fates, and not I, are to blame, and that it will not be long before 

 I get hold of another. We are both quite ready for a rest 

 and some refreshment, so we waste no time in vain regrets but 

 start off lo cross the river for some lunch. A kindly disposed 

 sportsman in a neighbouring boat suggests that I am losing my 

 fish owing to the bluntness of my hooks, and produces a small file, 

 which should always be included in a tarpon fisherman's outfit. 



This matter is soon put right and we walk a hundred yards 

 to a somewhat grubby little restaurant, which we find extremely 

 popular with the flies of the surrounding country. During a 

 most welcome meal — hunoer and thirst beino- the sauces — we 

 compare experiences. I pick up a few wrinkles, and even 

 though an absolute novice, my experiences have been to me so 

 startling that I am unable to play the part of a mere listener the 

 whole time : but I feel that the truth needs no embellishment and 

 I am not tempted to place so severe a tax on my imagination 

 as would be necessary to improve upon it. 



After an hour's interval we set forth again. Some delay is 

 caused by the non-appearance of my boatman. This does not 

 sweeten my temper, especially as the safety valve is screwed down. 

 The only Spanish word I know at all fitting to the occasion is 

 " Caramba." I am totally unable to give that any setting, and feel 

 that in any case it is hopelessly inadequate. He turns up ten 

 minutes later, but is obviously bored by the whole proceedings, and 



