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tough time of it. Novf and again one of them would touch the anemone. If 
he were strong he got away, but if not the long arms began to bind him up 
until finally he would disappear altogether, and there would bo only a 
little spasm of shuddering down in the anemone whore the little fish was 
still trying to struggle free. Too bad. It bothers me to kill things. 
//e had emptied both cameras we went up f or lunch, planning to 
finish up the business in the afternoon* But when \7o went below again all 
of our mojaras had given up and were lying at the bottom of their wire cage. 
Only one little pompano minnow remained, perky as could be. Because he had 
come through the ordeal unscathed and still battling, we released him. Ho 
headed for the surface, and we could see him up there laying out a course 
for the nearest shore. A needlefish fell in behind him in a moment or two, 
but he was too big for the needle, and the last ive saw of him he was heading 
straight for shore* Hope he made it. 
We lot our gurnard go this afternoon, too. We should have enough 
footage on him, and the poor little thing has been standing on his head in 
the wire-bottomed holding pen trying to part the wires with his little 
hands to move the sand and stones that he can see a half— inch below. 
We opened the entire end of the cage, but he wouldn’t leave it. Finally 
Tom had to crawl in and shoo him out with his hands. He sailed out with 
his vrLngs open finally, and settled in t he grass as though ho never had 
been away. I watched him moving the grass blades aside with his hands end 
fanning the sand* Prom time to time he picked up something, but of such 
