TALES OF FISHES 



the water. "Won't it be risky to lift him into the 

 canoe?" 



"Lift nothing! I have this all figured out. Lead 

 him along." 



R. C. stepped out upon the beach while I was in 

 the water. The bonefish lay on his side, a blaze 

 of silver. I took hold of the line very gently and 

 led the fish a little closer in. The water was about 

 six inches deep. There were~waves beating in — a 

 miniature surf. And I calculated on the receding of 

 a wave. Then with one quick pull I slid our beauti- 

 ful quarry up on the coral sand. The instant he was 

 out of the water the leader snapped. I was ready 

 for this, too. But at that it was an awful instant! 

 As the wave came back, almost deep enough to 

 float the b6nefish, I scooped him up. 



"He's ours!" I said, consulting my watch. "Thirty- 

 three minutes! I give you my word that fight was 

 comparable to ones I've had with a Pacific sword- 

 fish." 



"Look at him!" R. C. burst out. "Look at him! 

 When the leader broke I thought he was lost. I'm 

 sick yet. Didn't you almost bungle that?" 



"Not a chance, R. C," I rephed. "Had that all 

 figured. I never put any strain on your line until 

 the wave went back. Then I slid him out, the leader 

 broke, and I scooped him up." 



R. C. stood gazing down at the glistening, opal- 

 spotted fish. What a contrast he presented to any 

 other kind of a fish! How many beautiful species 

 have we seen lying on sand or moss or ferns, just 

 come out of the water! But I could remember no 

 other so rare as this bonefish. The exceeding diffi- 



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