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Updated: May 31, 2025
"We won't have much but canned stuff to eat, if you don't," she went on, addressing Jack and Walter, who sat on the open after deck, under an awning that shaded them from the hot December sun. "That's so, we might," assented Jack. "A nice tarpon now wouldn't go bad." "Nonsense!" exclaimed Walter. "We haven't the outfit for tarpon fishing. If we get some red snappers, we'll be doing well."
"Think we can take him aboard, Dick?" "I think you can swamp the canoe and break the rod, all right." "I don't mind swamping the canoe and we can take care of the rod. If you'll take the rod now, I'll hang on to his jaw and take out the hook, which I can see in the corner of his mouth. Then, if you will look out for the rod and balance the canoe, I'll slide that tarpon over the gunwale "
The dinner was appetizing, the wine good, and conversation turned lightly from one subject to another. They had talked on a variety of topics: of tarpon fishing in Florida; of amateur photography, in which the hostess was proficient, and of gardens; of the latest novels and some current inelegancies of speech. Some one spoke of the growing habit of feeing employes to do their duty.
"Every little while Oswald Kearns disappears and no one seems to know his whereabouts some guess he's fond of tarpon fishing and goes out with a pal to indulge in the sport, his destination being kept secret so that the common herd can't swarm about the fishing grounds and annoy him; then another lot say he is not the bachelor he makes out, but has a little cozy home somewhere else with a wife who detests society and that's where he goes when away from the Miami paradise."
After two miles of squirmy navigation the boat came out into the broad, beautiful Rodgers River, down which they turned; and when Dick pointed out where the tarpon had wrecked their canoe and stunned him, and told of Ned's struggles to save his life, the girl's voice trembled and there were tears in her eyes as she listened and asked questions.
Again and again the great fish leaped high in the air, while the line ran low on the reel. "Paddle, Dick, paddle all you know," shouted Ned. But Dick was already doing his very best. The tarpon changed his course, came back a little, leaped once more and again started off. But Ned had got a good many yards of line back on his reel, and was getting hopeful of landing his first tarpon.
Captain Hull lashed two tarpon hooks to broomsticks, and getting in the skiff with Molly and the two boys, poled to the nearest key. Beneath the water the steep coral banks of the key were filled with deep holes from out of many of which long feelers projected.
Framed in a shower of spray I saw an immense tarpon, with mouth agape and fins stiff, close in pursuit of frantically leaping little fish. The fact that Attalano dropped his sandwich attested to the large size and close proximity of the tarpon. He uttered a grunt of satisfaction and pushed out the boat. A school of feeding tarpon closed the mouth of the lagoon.
I don't really need a tarpon, or want a tarpon, and I don't know what I could do with a tarpon if I hooked one, except to yell at him to go away; but I need a burned neck and a peeled nose, a little more zest for my food, and a little more zip about my work, if the interests of the American hog are going to be safe in my hands this spring.
I plunged down the line of cars, looking for a good machine and one with whose drive I was familiar. The guard rushed up to stop me; I showed him my badge, leaped into the front seat of a speed-built Tarpon, and had it out by the time Bill came up with the girl in his arms. I turned and swung open the tonneau door. Almost with one movement, he lifted her in and climbed after.
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