The Tarpon 267 
bent into a bow, and on his knees, holding on to 
a tuna which was somewhere down in the deep 
channel. The fisherman’s face was red, the veins 
stood out upon it like cords, and perspiration 
rained down. “Ze man who invented zis tunare 
fishing, he ought to be in zee jail,” he cried. 
“Come and take me off heem, will you? For 
hours I have heem; he take my fingare nail, he 
take my skin; he take me next. Zis is not fish- 
ing, zis is Hades.” 
The Frenchman would not allow his boatman 
to interfere, as he thought he had a record fish, and 
he had been trying for hours to reel it in; when 
it did come up, through the efforts of my boat- 
man and myself, and was found to weigh but 
eighty pounds, the woe and rage of that French- 
man passed all understanding. 
The angler at Aransas Pass will find the cus- 
tom holds of towing the fish to the beach—a 
most laborious habit and unnecessary if the boat- 
man has a large wide-beamed boat, when the 
largest tarpon can be held at the rail, the hook 
dislodged, or the game killed and taken aboard 
with ease by a boatman who understands his 
business. A green hand, or a nervous man, 
should be avoided, as such an one will lose his 
