IX 



THE LADY AND THE TUNA 



I WAS sitting on the hotel piazza at Avalon 

 one summer afternoon, smoking and think- 

 ing of my morning's sport. My experience 

 that morning had been a strange one. I had 

 started out fishing before daybreak, much 

 to my discomfort, for I am not a willing 

 early riser; but it pays at Catalina, for the 

 sun rising over the mountains is a sight 

 never to be forgotten. About half an hour 

 after daylight I had hooked a tuna which 

 bolted with the flying-fish bait at express- 

 train speed and was only checked, after 

 taking six hundred feet of line, by the 

 spreading of my reel. I was fishing with a 

 tarpon reel of large size but not strong 

 enough for so fast and heavy a fish. The 

 reel handle would not turn either way, and 

 my boatman whispered, "Stung!" in my 

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