Ken saw how skilfully Pepe managed the boat. The mozo seemed to know just which way the fish headed, and always kept the boat straight. Sometimes he rowed back and lent his help to Hal. But this appeared to anger the tarpon, for the line told he was coming to the surface. Then, as Pepe ceased to let him feel the weight of the boat, the tarpon sank again. So the battle went on round and round the great pool. After an hour of it Hal looked ready to drop.
"Land him alone if you can," said Ken. "He's tiring, Hal."
"I'll--land him--or--or bust!" panted Hal.
"Look out, now!" warned George again. "He's coming up. See the line. Be ready to trim the boat if he drops aboard. Wow!"
The tarpon slipped smoothly out of the water and shot right over the bow of the boat. Quick-witted George flung out his hand and threw Hal's rod round in time to save the line from catching. The fish went down, came up wagging his head, and then fell with sullen splash.
"He's done," yelled George. "Now, Hal, hold him for all you're worth. Not an inch of line!"
Pepe headed the boat for a sandy beach; and Hal, looking as if about to have a stroke of apoplexy, clung desperately to the bending rod. The tarpon rolled and lashed his tail, but his power was mostly gone. Gradually he ceased to roll, until by the time Pepe reached shore he was sliding wearily through the water, his silvery side glittering in the light.
The boat grated on the sand. Pepe leaped out. Then he grasped Hal's line, slipped his hands down to the long wire leader, and with a quick, powerful pull slid the tarpon out upon the beach.
"Oh-h!" gasped Hal, with glistening eyes. "Oh-h! Ken, just look!"
"I'm looking, son, and don't you forget it."