TALES OF FISHES 



ing fish. To me they appeared game, swift, and 

 illusive. 



We lost sight of them. With the boat turned 

 fairly into the west wind the kite soared, pulling 

 hard, and my bait skipped down the slopes of the 

 swells and up over the crests just Uke a live, leaping 

 little fish. It was my opinion that the tuna were 

 running inshore. Dan said they were headed west. 

 We saw nothing of them. Again the old familiar 

 disappointment knocked at my heart, with added 

 bitterness of past defeat. Dan scanned the sea hke 

 a shipwrecked mariner watching for a sail. 



' " I see them ! . . . There !" he called. " They're sure 

 traveling fast." 



That stimulated me with a shock. I looked and 

 looked, but I could not see the darkened water. 

 Moments passed, during which I stood up, watch- 

 ing my bait as it slipped over the waves. T knew 

 Dan would tell me when to begin to jump it. The 

 suspraise grew to be intense. 



"We'll catch up with them," said Dan, excitedly. 

 "Everything's right now. Kite high, pulling hard 

 — ^bait working fine. You're sure of a strike. . . . 

 When you see one get the bait hook him quick and 

 hard." 



• The ambition of years, the long patience, the end- 

 less efforts, the numberless disappointments, and 

 that never-to-be-forgotten day among the giant 

 tuna — these flashed up at Captain Dan's words of 

 certainty, and, together with the thrilling proximity 

 of the tuna we were chasing, they roused in me 

 emotion utterly beyond proportion or reason. This 

 had happened to me before, notably in swordfishing, 



242 



