The tarpon lay inert, a beautiful silver-scaled creature that looked as if he had just come from a bath of melted opals. The great dark eyes were fixed and staring, the tail moved feebly, the long dorsal fin quivered.
He measured five feet six inches in length, which was one inch more than Hal's height.
"Ken, the boys back home will never believe I caught him," said Hal, in distress.
"Take his picture to prove it," replied Ken.
Hal photographed his catch. Pepe took out the hook, showing, as he did so, the great iron-like plates in the mouth of the fish.
"No wonder it's hard to hook them," said Ken.
Hal certainly wanted his beautiful fish to go back, free and little hurt, to the river. But also he wanted him for a specimen. Hal deliberated. Evidently he was considering the labor of skinning such a huge fish and the difficulty of preserving and packing the hide.
"Say, Hal, wouldn't you like to see me hook one?" queried Ken, patiently.
That brought Hal to his senses.
"Sure, Ken, old man, I want you to catch one--a big one--bigger than mine," replied Hal, and restored the fish to the water.