BONEFISH 



my eyesight. There he was, swimming heavily, and 

 he looked three feet long, thick and dark and heavy. 

 I got the anchor up just as he passed under the 

 canoe. Maybe I did not revel in pride of my 

 quickness of thought and action! 



"Oh! He's gone under the rope!" gasped R. C. 



"No!" I yelled, sharply. "Let your line run out! 

 Put your tip down! We'll drift over your line." 



R. C. was dominated to do so, and presently the 

 canoe drifted over where the line was stretched. 

 That second ticklish moment passed. It had scared 

 me. But I could not refrain from one sally. 



"I got the anchor up. What did you think I'd 

 do.?" 



R. C. passed by my remark. This was serious 

 business for him. He looked quite earnest and 

 pale. 



"Say! did you see him?" he ejaculated, looking 

 at me. 



"Wish I hadn't," I replied. 



We were drifting inshore, which was well, pro- 

 vided we did not drift too hard to suit the bonefish. 

 He swam along in plain sight, and he seemed so 

 big that I would not have gazed any longer if I 

 could have helped it. 



I kept the canoe headed in, and we were not long 

 coming to shallow water. Here the bonefish made 

 a final dash for freedom, but it was short and feeble, 

 compared with his first runs. He got about twenty 

 feet away, then sheered, showing his broad, silver 

 side. R. C. wound him in close, and an instant 

 later the bow of the canoe grated on shore. 



"Now what?" asked R. C. as I stepped out into 



133 



