TALES OF FISHES 



all sitting on the sunken log. Near by stood a tall 

 crane watching us solemnly, and above in the tree- 

 top a parrot vociferously proclaimed his knowledge 

 of our presence. I was wondering if he objected to 

 our invasion, at the same time taking a most wel- 

 come bite for lunch, when directly in front of me 

 the water flew up as if propelled by some submarine 

 power. Framed in a shower of spray I saw an im- 

 mense tarpon, with mouth agape and fins stiff, 

 close in pursuit of frantically leaping little fish. 



The fact that Attalano dropped his sandwich 

 attested to the large size and close proximity of the 

 tarpon. He uttered a grunt of satisfaction and 

 pushed out the boat. A school of feeding tarpon 

 closed the mouth of the lagoon. Thousands of 

 mullet had been cut off from their river haunts and 

 were now leaping, flying, darting in wild haste to 

 elude the great white monsters. In the foamy 

 swirls I saw streaks of blood. 



"Byme-by-tarpon!" called Attalano, warningly. 



Shrewd guide! I had forgotten that I held a rod. 

 When the realization dawned on me that sooner or 

 later I would feel the strike of one of these silver 

 tigers a keen, tingling thrill of excitement quivered 

 over me. The primitive man asserted himself; the 

 instinctive lust to conquer and to kill seized me, 

 and I leaned forward, tense and strained with 

 suspended breath and swelling throat. 



Suddenly the strike came, so tremendous in its 

 energy that it almost pulled me from my seat; so 

 quick, fierce, bewildering that I could think of 

 nothing but to hold on. Then the water split with 

 a hissing sound to let out a great tarpon, long as a 



