TALES OP FISHES 



and got out another silk one. It soared aloft so 

 easily that I imagined our luck was changing. Vain 

 fisherman's delusion! Nothing could do that. There 

 were thousands of tons — actually thousands of tons 

 of tuna in that three-mile stretch of ruffled water, 

 but I could not catch one. It was a settled convic- 

 tion. I was reminded of what Enos, the Portuguese 

 boatman, complained to an angler he had out, "You 

 mos' unluck' fisherman I ever see!" 



We tried a shorter kite-line and a shorter length 

 of my line, and we ran down upon that mess of tuna 

 once more. It was strange — and foolish — how we 

 stuck to that school of biggest fish. This time Dan 

 headed right into the thick of them. Out of the 

 corners of my eyes I seemed to see tuna settling down 

 all around. Suddenly my brother yelled. 



Zam! That was a huge loud splash back of my 

 bait. The tuna missed. R. C. yeUed again. Cap- 

 tain Dan followed suit: 



"He's after it! . . . Oh, he's the biggest yet!" 



Then I saw a huge tuna wallowing in a surge 

 round my bait. He heaved up, round and big as 

 a barrel, flashing a wide bar of blue-green, and he 

 got the hook. If he had been strangely slow he 

 was now unbehevably swift. His size gave me 

 panic. I never moved, and he hooked himself. 

 Straight down he shot and the line broke. 



My brother's sympathy now was as sincere as 

 Captain Dan's misery. I asked R. C. to take the 

 rod and see if he could do better. 



"Not much!" he replied. "When you get one, 

 then I'll try. Stay with 'em, now!" 



Not improbably I would have stayed out until 



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