er the waves. I knew Dan would tell me
when to begin to jump it. The suspense grew to be intense.

"We'll catch up with them," said Dan, excitedly. "Everything's right
now. Kite high, pulling hard--bait working fine. You're sure of a
strike.... When you see one get the bait hook him quick and hard."

The ambition of years, the long patience, the endless efforts, the
numberless disappointments, and that never-to-be-forgotten day among the
giant tuna--these flashed up at Captain Dan's words of certainty, and,
together with the thrilling proximity of the tuna we were chasing, they
roused in me emotion utterly beyond proportion or reason. This had
happened to me before, notably in swordfishing, but never had I felt
such thrills, such tingling nerves, such oppression on my chest, such a
wild, eager rapture. It would have been impossible, notwithstanding my
emotional temperament, if the leading up to this moment had not included
so much long-sustained feeling.

"Jump your bait!" called Dan, with a ring in his voice. "In two jumps
you'll be in the tail-enders."

I jerked my rod. The bait gracefully leaped over a swell--shot along the
surface, and ended with a splash. Again I jerked. As the bait rose into
the air a huge angry splash burst just under it, and a broad-backed tuna
lunged and turned clear over, his tail smacking the water.

"Jump it!" yelled Dan.

Before I could move, a circling smash of white surrounded my bait. I
heard it. With all my might I jerked. Strong and heavy came the weight
of the tuna. I had hooked him. With one solid thumping splash he
sounded. Here was test for line and test for me. I could not resist one
turn of the thumb-wheel, to ease the drag. He went down with the same
old incomparable speed. I saw the kite descending. Dan threw out the
clutch--ran to my side. The reel screamed. Every tense second, as the
line whizzed off, I expected it to break. There was no joy, no sport in
that painful watching. He ran off two hundred feet, then, marvelous to
see, he slowed up. The kite was still high, pulling hard. What with kite
and drag and friction of line in the water, that tuna had great strain
upon him. He ran off a little more, slower this time, then stopped. The
kite began to flutter.

I fell into the chair, jammed the rod-butt into the socket, and began to
pump and wind.

"Doc, you're hooked on and you've stopped him!" boomed Dan. His face
beamed. "Look at your legs!"

It became manifest th