The tarpon was tame, and Ned paddled within twenty feet of it without frightening it, but Dick made a poor shot.  The back of a tarpon is narrow and a small mark for a harpoon when thrown from behind the fish, and Dick’s weapon grazed its side, while the pole fell across the back of the tarpon, causing it to give one wild leap and depart for regions unknown.  Dick was now out for tarpon, and paid no attention to smaller fish, many of which came within striking distance.  Tarpon were scarce that day, and Dick’s next chance was an hour in coming, and then the fish happened to be headed for the canoe.  The boy had not learned the difficulty of throwing an iron through the coat of mail of a tarpon excepting from abaft the beam of the fish, and he drew in his harpoon with a beautiful four-inch scale fixed on its point.

“Take the harpoon, Ned.  I couldn’t hit a house.”

“Yes, you could.  You hit that tarpon.  Only trouble was, you didn’t know where to hit it.  Keep on practicing.  You said I’d have the fun of my life, and I’m having it.”

[Illustration:  “THE STRICKEN TARPON LEAPED SIX FEET IN THE AIR”]

Half an hour later Dick made a beautiful, long throw of nearly thirty feet, and the stricken tarpon leaped six feet in the air.  For two hundred yards the frantic fish towed the canoe in a straight line, at a high rate of speed, and then began a series of leaps in the air.  Some of these were long jumps which barely cleared the surface of the water, while others were from eight to ten feet vertically upward.  The tarpon then darted away in a new direction, blistering Dick’s hands as the line tore through them.  For a quarter of an hour the drag of the canoe made little difference in the speed of the tarpon, but then it began to slacken and Dick was able to pull the canoe up beside the fish, which gave a leap and a sweep of its tail that drenched both of the boys and, if the tarpon had been a foot nearer, would have wrecked their craft.  Again the creature dashed away, getting back most of the line that Dick had taken in.  Once more the fish weakened, and the canoe was drawn up beside it, and once more it sprang in the air and dashed away.  But with each fresh effort the tarpon became weaker, until Dick said to Ned: 

“He’s about played out.  Better take the gaff next time I get near him and see if you can land him in the canoe.”

“No,” replied Ned, “he’s your tarpon and you can gaff him yourself.  He’ll capsize the canoe when he comes aboard and I want to be ready to swim.”

[Illustration:  “THE TARPON BEGAN A SERIES OF LEAPS”]

Dick drew the canoe beside the tarpon and, dropping the harpoon-line, held the handle of the big gaff-hook in both hands, ready to strike.  But the fish saw the uplifted weapon and sheered away, swimming with renewed vigor, and Dick had to work for another half hour before his quarry was quiet enough for the blow.  This delay was fortunate for the boys, since it left the tarpon too tired to struggle.  When Dick sank the steel gaff deep in the throat of the Silver King and dragged it over the side of the frail canoe, Ned sat in the bottom of the craft with a hand on each gunwale, ready to balance the boat or swim, as events might indicate.