BONEFISH 



I waded up-shore with the canoe, and R. C. walked. 

 It was a hard job to face the wind and waves and 

 pull the canoe. It made me tu-ed and wet. 



When we got above the old camp the tide had 

 started in. We saw bonefish tails standing up out 

 of the water. Hurriedly baiting our hooks, we waded 

 to get ahead of them. But we could not catch them 

 wading, so went back to the canoe and paddled swiftly- 

 ahead, anchored, and got out to wade once more. 



R. C. was above me. We saw the big tail of one 

 bonefish and both of us waded to get ahead of him. 

 At last I made a cast, but did not see him any more. 

 The wind was across my line, making a big curve 

 in it, and I was afraid I could not tell a bite if I 

 had one. Was about to reel in when I felt the faint 

 tug. I swept my rod up and back, hard as I dared. 

 The line came tight, I felt a heavy weight; a quiver, 

 and then my rod was pulled down. I had hooked 

 him. The thrUl was remarkable. He took a short 

 dash, then turned. I thought I had lost him. But 

 he was running in. Frantically I wound the reel, 

 but could not get in the slack. I saw my line coming, 

 heard it hiss in the water, then made out the dark 

 shape of a bonefish. He ran right at me — almost hit 

 my feet. When he saw me he darted off with in- 

 credible speed, making my reel scream. I feared the 

 strain on the line, and I plunged through the water 

 as fast as I could after him. He ran four hundred 

 feet in that dash, and I ran fifty. Not often have I 

 of late years tingled and thrilled and panted with 

 such excitement. It was great. It brought back 

 the days of boyhood. When he stopped that run 

 I was tired and thoroughly wet. He sheered off as 



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