d.

"He's off!" replied my brother.

That might well have been, but, as I expected, he was not. He broke
water on a slack line and showed us all his dripping, colorful body
nearer than a hundred feet. R. C. thereupon performed with incredible
speed at the reel and quickly had a tight line. Mr. Sailfish did not
like that. He slid out, wrathfully wagging his bill, and left a seamy,
foamy track behind him, finally to end that play with a splendid long
leap. He was headed away from us now, with two hundred yards of line
out, going hard and fast, and we had to follow him. We had a fine
straightaway run to recover the line. This was a thrilling chase, and
one, I think, we never would have had if R. C. had been using heavy
tackle. The sailfish led us out half a mile before he sounded.

Then in fifteen minutes more R. C. had him up where we could see his
purple and bronze colors and the strange, triangular form of him, which
peculiar shape came mostly from the waving sail. I thought I saw other
shapes and colors with him, and bent over the gunwale to see better.

"He's got company. Two sharks!--You want to do some quick work now or
good-by sailfish!"

[Illustration: Nassau Photo
SOLITUDE ON THE SEA]

[Illustration: Nassau Photo
SUNSET BY THE SEA]

A small gray shark and a huge yellow shark were coming up with our
quarry. R. C. said things, and pulled hard on the light tackle. I got
hold of the leader and drew the sailfish close to the boat. He began to
thresh, and the big shark came with a rush. Instinctively I let go of
the leader, which action was a blunder. The sailfish saw the shark and,
waking up, he fought a good deal harder than before the sharks appeared
upon the scene. He took off line, and got so far away that I gave up any
hope that the sharks might not get him. There was a heavy commotion out
in the water. The shark had made a rush. So had the sailfish, and he
came right back to the boat. R. C. reeled in swiftly.

"Hold him hard now!" I admonished, and I leaped up on the stern. The
sailfish sheered round on the surface, with tail and bill out, while the
shark swam about five feet under him. He was a shovel-nosed, big-finned
yellow shark, weighing about five hundred pounds. He saw me. I waved my
hat at him, but he did not mind that. He swam up toward the surface and
his prey. R. C. was now handling the light tackle pretty roughly. It is
really remarkable what can be done with nine-thread. In another mom