BIG TUNA 



the tuna quit if that had taken all night. Three 

 more times we put up the kite — ^three more flying- 

 fish we wired on the double hooks — three more runs 

 we made through that tantalizing school of tuna 

 that grew huger and swifter and more impossible 

 — three more smashing wide breaks of water on the 

 strike — and quicker than a flash three more broken 

 lines! 



I imagined I was resigned. My words to my silent 

 comrades were even cheerful. 



" Come on. Try again. Where there's life there's 

 hope. It's an exceedingly rare experience — any- 

 way. After all, nothing depends upon my catching 

 one of these tuna. It doesn't matter." 



All of which attested to the singular state of my 

 mind. 



Another kite, another leader and double hook, 

 another bait had to be arranged. This took time. 

 My impatience, my nervousness were hard to restrain. 

 Captain Dan was pale and grim. I do not know how 

 I looked. Only R. C. no longer looked at me. 



As we put out the bait we made the discovery 

 that the other anglers, no doubt having ended their 

 fight, were running down upon our particular school 

 of tuna. This was in line with our luck. Other 

 schools of tuna were in sight, but these fellows had 

 to head for ours. It galled me when I thought how 

 sportsman-like I had been to attract their attention. 

 We aimed to head them oflF and reach the school 

 first. As we were the closest all augured well for 

 our success. But gloom invested whatever hopes 

 I had. 



We beat the other boat. We had just gotten our 



237 



