"You need a full moon," I said. Art mimed the sharpening of a long knife and treated Mini to a ferocious grin. The little waiter smiled nervously and made off with the used ashtray.
"Under IGFA rules," said Roy, "permit caught as a result of human sacrifice do not count."
"Not even in Yucat�n?" I asked.
"Especially in Yucat�n," said Roy. "It makes it all too easy."
"What happened to that first guide you had?" Art asked sharply. "I haven't seen him around since yesterday afternoon."
That night the others went to bed early again. Bob, albeit vicariously, was as fulfilled and satisfied as Roy. Art and I sat up late, moodily criticizing the dress sense of the gobernador's ladies, the guitarist brought in to honor the occasion, the conch cocktail, the veal, the coffee.
"Listen," I said eventually, "why don't we give some time to the bonefish tomorrow?"
"It's our last day," said Art. "Our last chance to catch a permit. We can't give up now. What we'll do, we'll make an early start tomorrow. We'll get out there at first light and hit them hard!" You have to admire the resolution of the man.
In the morning we were up before any of the others, except Mini, who poured coffee and changed ashtrays for us on the terrace. At the boca we waited impatiently for Rosalito until we sighted him giggling his way through the palms. "Today per-met, hey?" said Art. "Not ma�ana. Today!"
"Ma�ana" agreed Rosalito happily.