BONEFISH 



his pointed white nose, could be plainly seen. This 

 fish made a rare picture for an angler. 



So I led him to the canoe and, ascertaining that 

 I had him well hooked, I lifted him in. 



Never have I seen so beautiful a fish. A golden 

 trout, a white sea-bass, a dolphin, aU are beautiful, 

 but not so exquisite as this bonefish. He seemed 

 all bars of dazzling silver. His tail had a blue mar- 

 gin and streaks of lilac. His lower (anal) fins were 

 blazing with opal fire, and the pectoral fins were 

 crystal white. His eye was a dead, piercing black, 

 staring and deep. We estimated his weight. I held 

 for six pounds, but R. C. shook his head. He did 

 not believe that. But we agreed on the magnificent 

 fight he had made. 



Then we waded up-shore farther and began to 

 fish. In just five minutes I had the same kind of 

 strike, slight, almost imperceptible, vibrating, and I 

 hooked a fish exactly as I had the first one. He 

 was light of weight, but swift as a flash. I played 

 him from where I stood. This time I essayed with all 

 skill to keep a taut line. It was impossible. Now I 

 felt his weight and again only a slack line. This fish, 

 too, ran right to my feet, then in a boiling splash 

 sheered away. But he could not go far. I reeled 

 him back and led him to the canoe. He was small, 

 and the smallness of him was such a surprise in con- 

 trast to what his fight had led me to imagine he was. 



R. C. had one strike and broke his line on the jerk. 

 We had to give up on account of sunset at hand. 



There was another hard thunder-storm last night. 

 The last few days have begun the vernal equinox. 



127 



