er ze strain."

"It's the reaction," said Colin's father, as he laved the boy's
forehead, and just as Vincente had said, in a moment or two the color
came back into the lad's cheeks and he straightened up.

"Silly to act like that," he said. Then, seeing his father's look of
concern, he added, "I feel as though I'd like some grub."

Kindly refraining from increasing the boy's embarrassment by commenting
on his exhaustion spell, the older man reached for the basket and handed
out a package of sandwiches. Two hours of excitement and exertion in the
hot sun, following a very early breakfast, had affected Colin sharply,
but boy-like, he was always ready for eating.

"That was what I wanted," he said, as a few bites disposed of the first
sandwich and he took another.

The boatman nodded approvingly.

"He's goin' to be fine angler, all right," he said. "Major Dare, if zat
tuna's over a hundred, ze boy ought to get ze button. Zat's ze right rod
an' line an' it was caught accordin' to ze rules of ze club."

"Could I really get a button?" asked Colin excitedly, the very thought
driving away the last remnants of his attack of weakness. "Is it really
a tuna? And is it over a hundred pounds?"

"It's a tuna without question," his father answered, "but I'm not so
sure about the weight. If Vincente says it is, he's likely to be right."

"Near one hundred and ten, I t'ink," the boatman answered, "an' I'm sure
over one hundred. 'Bout one hundred, six or seven, I should t'ink."

"Do you want to put out the line again, Colin?" his father asked.

"Thank you, I've had enough for one day," the boy replied. "Let's see
you get one, Father!"

It was a great delight to lie back on the seat with the consciousness
of a great feat achieved, to watch the gulls and sea-birds overhead and
the flying-fish skimming the rippling sea. Major Dare had excellent
sport with a couple of yellowtail--one of which was played fifty minutes
and the other thirty-five--but the honors of the day rested with Colin.
It was nearly noon as the little launch came up to the pier, and the sun
was burning hot, but there were a score of loungers on the beach to
welcome them.

"Any luck, Vincente?" called a friendly boatman, as the little craft
sped by.

"Good luck," was the reply. "Boy got a hundred-pounder!"

"Did, eh?" exclaimed the other boatman, turning round to stare, and
Colin felt that this really was fame. Word was sent to a member of the
weighing com