"He's in luck, then," said the boy's companion. "I hope I get a chance this season. Still, it's a good omen, seeing a catch like this when coming into the harbor."

"Sure thing," said Colin confidently, "there are probably lots of them this season. Do you suppose Father will land him?"

"About nine out of ten get away," was the reply, "and it takes a good fisherman to bring them to the gaff. Has your father been here before?

Perhaps I may know him."

"He comes nearly every year," Colin answered. "Dare is his name, Major Dare."

"Oh, you're Dare's son, are you?" was the response, as the older man held out his hand. "I've known your father for years. He holds a blue tuna b.u.t.ton, doesn't he?"

"I've never heard of it, if he does," Colin answered. "What's that for?"

"It is the greatest fishing honor that is to be got anywhere. Only about seventy members of the club have gained it; two, I believe, being women, and the second largest tuna ever caught on rod and line was brought to gaff by a woman angler. It is given for catching a tuna weighing over one hundred pounds, on a light rod."

"That must be fearfully hard to do," the boy said; "even a twenty-pound fish is a strain to a light rod."

"It is difficult," was the reply, "but the club rules require the use of a rod the tip of which shall be not less than five feet long, weighing not over sixteen ounces in weight, and a line not over a 'twenty-four'

or smaller than the usual trout-line. With this equipment, to conquer a tuna weighing over one hundred pounds is an angling achievement of the highest rank, and for this the blue tuna b.u.t.ton is given by the club."

"And Father never told me!" Colin said reproachfully, watching the contest with the fish as well as he could considering his distance from the scene of action.

"Major Dare is a thorough sportsman," the angler said, "and I suppose he thought it would look like boasting. What's happening there in the boat?"

"It looks as though they had started out to sea," Colin answered, handing back the gla.s.s.

"That's what's the matter!" the angler said. "By Jonah's whale, how she is flying through the water!"

The two watched the boat until a turn of the cliff hid it from sight and then, Colin, turning round, saw that the steamer was nearly at the pier, close enough for him to distinguish his mother and sister waiting there and waving to attract his attention. He signaled enthusiastically in reply, and in a few minutes the steamer was alongside the wharf.

The greeting was most exciting, for the boy was simply bursting with news, and there had been a good deal of anxiety felt by his parents on his behalf while he had been wandering in the Behring Sea. But their talk was broken in upon by an enthusiastic angler friend, who begged Mrs. Dare to come to the extreme end of the pier and watch the battle with the big tuna.

"Oh, Mother," eagerly said the boy, "do you mind if I jump in a boat so that I can go out and watch Father better? I'm sure he wouldn't object."

"I think I would like to have you with me for a little while, Colin,"

his mother said with a gentle smile, "after you have been away so long.

But you are just the same, after all, eager to do everything immediately. I know you would be happier in going, so you can desert us if you like."

"I don't mean that, Mother!" said the boy, feeling a twinge of self-reproach.

"No, I know. But you can tell us all the rest of your adventures when you get back. Lucy quite thinks that you have become a sort of 'Robinson Crusoe.'"

Colin gave his little sister--of whom he was very fond--an un.o.bserved hug, and then fairly sped down to the end of the pier and called a boatman to take him off. The boatman, who was a native of the place, and to whom everything connected with angling was an old story, laughed at the boy's excitement.

"Goin' to catch a tuna with your hands, sir?" he asked, seeing that the boy was not carrying any fishing-tackle.

"No," the boy answered, "but I just came in on the steamer and, as we pa.s.sed the point, saw Father's boat, and he seemed to have something big on the line, so I want to go out and see the fun."

"I heard Major Dare had a tuna this mornin'," the boatman said, casting off and starting the little engine, "although there haven't many of 'em showed up yet this season. Are you his son?"

"Yes," Colin answered, "I'm the oldest."

"I hope you're goin' to take after him, then," the boatman said approvingly; "he's a fine angler. Looks like the tuna was comin' in," he continued a moment later, as the boat with the flag flying came speeding into the harbor. But the fish was darting from side to side in short rushes, and it was evident that he was tiring.

"Hullo, Father," called the boy, as they came within hearing; "are you going to land him?"

"Is that you, Colin?" his father answered, without taking his eyes from his line, however. "Glad to have you back. Yes," he continued, answering the boy's question, "I think I'll land him all right, but I'm pretty well tuckered out, I hooked him over three hours ago."

Even recalling what the angler aboard the steamer had told him about the sportsmanlike rules that obtain at Avalon, it seemed absurd to Colin for any one to try and catch so heavy a fish as the tuna seemed to be, with a rod and line that would be thought light for trout.

"How big do the fish run here?" he asked the boatman.

"'Bout a thousand pounds for the biggest game fishes, them's black sea-ba.s.s," the man answered; "leastways there was an eight-hundred pounder brought in, and lots of us have seen bigger ones."

"But how can they catch fishes that size on a little bit of a spindling rod and a line so fine you can hardly see it?"

"They don't," was the reply, "not that big. The record black sea-ba.s.s, rod and reel, that has been caught here was four hundred and thirty-six pounds in the season of 1905. The biggest tuna--they're the hardest fighters of any fish that swims--was two hundred and fifty-one pounds, caught in the season of 1900. I reckon Major Dare's fast to one that's just a good size for sport."

"You're getting him, Father!" cried Colin, who had been watching the contest with the fish, while listening to the boatman.

"He's a fair size," said the boatman critically, "but not one of the really big ones, probably only about eighty or ninety pounds."

The fight came to a close sooner than Colin expected. Dexterously, Major Dare reeled in his line during a moment's pause while the fish sulked, bringing him to the surface, and his boatman, quick as a flash of light, leaned over the side and slipped the long, slender hook, or gaff, into the gills. But the end was not yet, for the tuna, with a powerful shake of his head, nearly pulled the man overboard, shook out the gaff, and commenced another panic-stricken rush.

Colin's father, however, with thumb on the brake of the reel, gave him absolutely no leeway, and the tuna was stopped within twenty feet, to be reeled in again. In the meantime, the gaffer had recovered his weapon, and as the big fish was brought to the side of the boat, he struck again, this time succeeding in holding against the rush of the fish, though he was pulled elbow-deep into the water. Then, standing on the gunwale, the gaffer lifted the head of the tuna and tilted the boat over as far as was safe, sliding in the fish as he did so, accompanied by the cheers of Colin. As soon as the tuna was fairly secure, a big square of canvas was thrown over it to keep it from pounding and threshing in the bottom of the boat.

"That was bully, Father!" said Colin, reaching out and shaking hands; "I'm glad I got here in time."

His father looked at him with a twinkle in his eye.

"How the deuce did you know I was out here?" he asked; "I thought the steamer was only just about due."

"I saw you as we came into the harbor," Colin answered, "and I yelled loud enough to be heard 'way back in Los Angeles, but you didn't pay any attention."

"I thought I heard some one shouting a while back," his father said, "but I was busy then and didn't have time to see who it was."

"How big is the tuna, do you think?"

"Not big enough to be listed. About eighty-five, I should say. What about it, Vincente?"

"Little more," the boatman said; "I think perhaps ninety."

"Nothing of a record, you see, Colin," his father said, "just a good morning's sport. But I want to hear all about your doings. It seems to me that you're developing into quite a sensational person with your fights with whales, and your sea-serpents, and all the rest of it.

You've been writing good letters, too, my boy. I'm glad to see that you make use of your eyes when you're in strange places. Tell me how you got to Astoria, I didn't quite follow that salmon business."

Colin started his yarn, but was only fairly launched into it when they arrived at the wharf. There quite a crowd had gathered to welcome the incoming boat, for a big tuna catch always arouses interest in Avalon, and one of its features is the manner in which it is regarded as a personal triumph for the angler. The promenaders gather to see the prize weighed by the officials of the club, and it is rare that the customary photograph of fish, angler, and gaffer is omitted. As for Colin, he was as proud over the fish he had seen caught as though he had held the rod himself.

"I had thought of going to the other side of the island for black sea-ba.s.s to-morrow, Colin," his father said, "and I purposed going with Colonel Roader. I suppose you would like to come instead, and from what I hear I think I'll put off that trip and try tuna again to-morrow. You want to come along?"