a bait on and the kite out just in time to reach the first and
larger school. I was so excited that I did not see we were heading right
into it. My intent gaze was riveted upon my bait as it skimmed the
surface. The swells were long, low, smooth mounds. My bait went out of
sight behind one. It was then I saw water fly high and I felt a tug. I
jerked so hard I nearly fell over. My bait shot over the top of the
swell. Then that swell opened and burst--a bronze back appeared. He
missed the hook. Another tuna, also missing, leaped into the air--a fish
of one hundred and fifty pounds, glittering green and silver and blue,
jaws open, fins stiff, tail quivering, clear and clean-cut above the
surface. Again we all yelled. Actually before he fell there was another
smash and another tuna had my bait. This one I hooked. His rush was
irresistible. I released the drag on the reel. It whirled and whizzed.
The line threw a fine spray into my face. Then the tip of my rod flew up
with a jerk, the line slacked. We all knew what that meant. I reeled in.
The line had broken above the few feet of double line which we always
used next the leader. More than ever disaster loomed over me. The
feeling was unshakable now.

Nevertheless, I realized that wonderful good fortune attended us in the
fact that the school of big tuna had scarcely any noticeable fear of the
boat; they would not stay down, and they were ravenous.

On our next run down upon them I had a smashing strike. The tuna threw
the hook. Another got the bait and I hooked him. He sounded. The line
broke. We tried again. No sooner had we reached the school when the
water boiled and foamed at my bait. Before I could move that tuna
cleaned the hook. Our next attempt gained another sousing strike. But he
was so swift and I was so slow that I could not fasten to him.

"He went away from here," my brother said, with what he meant for
comedy. But it was not funny.

Captain Dan then put on a double hook, embedding it so one hook stood
clear of the bait. We tested my line with the scales and it broke at
fifty-three pounds, which meant it was a good strong line. The breeze
lulled and fanned at intervals. It seemed, however, we did not need any
breeze. We had edged our school of big tuna away from the other schools,
and it was milling on the surface, lazily and indifferently. But what
latent speed and power lay hidden in that mass of lolling tuna.

R. C. from his perch above yelled: "Look o