TALES OF FISHES 



reel handle out of his fingers. He had to put on a 

 glove. We were both excited and thrilled with the 

 gameness of this fish. It circled the canoe three 

 times, and tired out very slowly. When he got it 

 close the very thing happened that I feared. It 

 darted under the anchor rope and we lost it. This 

 battle lasted about fifteen minutes, and afforded us an 

 actual instance of the wonderful qualities of this fish. 



Yesterday R. C. hooked a bonefish that made a 

 tremendous rush straight offshore, and never stopped 

 until he had pulled out the hook. This must have 

 been a very heavy and powerful fish. 



I had my taste of the same dose to-day. I felt a 

 tiny little tug upon my line that electrified me and 

 I jerked as hard as I dared. I realized that I had 

 hooked some kind of fish, but, as it was wiggling and 

 did not feel heavy, I concluded that I had hooked 

 one of those pesky blowfish. But all of a sudden my 

 line cut through the water and fairly whistled. I 

 wound in the slack and then felt a heavy fish. He 

 made a short plunge and then a longer one, straight 

 out, making my reel scream. I was afraid to thumb 

 the line, so I let him go. With these jerky plunges 

 he ran about three hundred feet. Then I felt my 

 line get fast, and, handing my rod to R. C, I slipped 

 off my shoes and went overboard. I waded out, 

 winding as I went, to find that the bonefish had 

 fouled the line on a sponge on the bottom, and he 

 had broken free just above the hook. 



Yesterday the fag end of the northeast gale still 

 held on, but we decided to try for bonefish. Low 

 tide at two o'clock. 



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