TALES OF FISHES 



I waded and wound in. I got him back near me. 

 He shot off in a shoal place of white mud where I 

 saw him plainly, and he scared a school of bonefish 

 that split and ran every way. My fish took to 

 making short circles; I could not keep a tight line. 

 Lost! I wound in fast, felt him again, then abso- 

 lutely lost feel of him or sight of him. Lost again! 

 My sensations were remarkable, considering it was 

 only a fish of arm's-length at the end of the line. 

 But these bonefish rouse an angler as no other fish 

 can. All at once I felt the line come tight. He was 

 still on, now running inshore. 



The water was about a foot deep. I saw the 

 bulge, or narrow wave, he made. He ran out a 

 hundred feet, and had me dashing after him again. 

 I could not trust that light line at the speed he swam, 

 so I ran to release the strain. He led me inshore, 

 then up-shore, and out toward sea again, all the time 

 fighting with a couple of hundred feet of line out. 

 Occasionally he would make a solid, thumping 

 splash. He worked offshore some two hundred 

 yards, where he led me in water half to my hips. 

 I had to try to stop him here, and with fear and 

 trepidation I thumbed the reel. The first pressure 

 brought a savage rush, but it was short. He turned, 

 and I wound him back and waded inshore. 



From that moment I had him beaten, although I 

 was afraid of his short thumps as he headed away 

 and tugged. Finally I had him within twenty feet 

 circling around me, tired and loggy, yet still strong 

 enough to require careful handling. 



He looked short and heavy, pale checked green 

 and silver; and his staring black eye, set forward in 



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