sperating. When we got close the kite flopped down into
the water. Captain Dan used language. We ran back, picked up the kite.
It was soaked, of course, and would not fly. While Dan got out a new
kite, a large silk one which we had not tried yet, we ran down to the
eastward of the second school. To our surprise and delight this untried
kite flew well without almost any wind.

We got in position and headed for the school. I was using a big hook
half embedded near the tail of the flying-fish and the leader ran
through the bait. It worked beautifully. A little jerk of my rod sent
the bait skittering over the water, for all the world like a live
flying-fish. I knew now that I would get another strike. Just as we
reached a point almost opposite the school of tuna they headed across
our bow, so that it seemed inevitable we must either run them down or
run too close. My spirit sank to zero. Something presaged bad luck. I
sensed disaster. I fought the feeling, but it persisted. Captain Dan
swore. My brother shouted warnings from over us where he sat on top. But
we ran right into the leaders. The school sank. I was sick and furious.

"Jump your bait! It's not too late," called Dan.

I did so. Smash! The water seemed to curl white and smoke. A tuna had my
bait. I jerked. I felt him. He threw the hook. Half the bait remained
upon it. Smash! A great boil and splash! Another tuna had that. I tried
to jerk. But both kite and tuna pulling made my effort feeble. This one
also threw out the hook. It came out with a small piece of mangled red
flying-fish still hanging to it. Instinctively I jumped that remains of
my bait over the surface. Smash! The third tuna cleaned the hook.

Captain Dan waxed eloquent and profane.

My brother said, "What do you know about that?"

As for myself, I was stunned one second and dazzled the next. Three
strikes on one bait! It seemed disaster still clogged my mind, but what
had already happened was new and wonderful. Half a mile below us I saw
the angler still fighting the tuna he had hooked. I wanted him to get
it, but I hoped he would be all afternoon on the job.

"Hurry, Cap!" was all I said.

Ordinarily Dan is the swiftest of boatmen. To-day he was slower than
molasses and all he did went wrong. What he said about the luck was more
than melancholy. I had no way to gauge my own feelings because I had
never had such an experience before. Nor had I ever heard or read of any
one having it.

We got