A Fish Story

ONE day, on the island of Foa, in Tonga, two boys were fishing, diving along the reef; and an extraordinary in cident occurred. This is the story as it was told to me on the deck of a ship, by Father E. Tremblay, of Haapai—better known as the “boatbuilding missionary.”

Bill was a Catholic, Jim was not. Bill had a shining new medal hung from his neck —one of those distinguishing badges which the Catholic Orders throughout the Pacific issue to their adherents. Jim made teasing remarks about Bill’s medal.

Bill “bit”; and the friendly squabble broke the monotony of fishing.

Then Bill came up with distress written all over him: his precious medal had dis appeared—slipped off while he was div ing. Both boys dived repeatedly; but the medal was gone.

They resumed fishing, and worked along the reef about 30 yards. Then Jim gripped Bill’s arm and pointed.

Near them was a little black fish, about five inches long, well-known in those waters for its inquisitive, cheeky habits.

In its mouth was something shining— Bill’s medal. It would swim a few feet, drop the.medal, and chase and catch it again as it dropped towards the bottom.

Slowly the fish came nearer, and both boys plunged at it. It scurried away, and Bill recovered his medal.

“Father Tremblay,” I said, very severely, “are you just naturally frisky; or have, you selected me specially for that really terrible fish story?”

“But it really is true,” protested the “boatbuilder.” “I didn’t believe it myself, until I got those boys in, and cross examined them. That little fish is well known for its cheekiness. It swims up to the natives when they are fishing under water, and tries to bite the shiny part of their diving-glasses. ■I suppose it does sound fishy,” he added, reflectively. “I offered the story to Father Deihl, in Apia, for his monthly journal, and he was difficult—you know, polite, but kind of rude.”

“All right, Father,” I said, “I’ll believe it. But don’t blame me if you’re elected an honorary member of the Ananias Club.”

R.W.R.