FOREST, L^KE, AND RIVER 



Dark are the shadows of the distant land. For 

 a moment visible, then lost to view, the other 

 crafts dart in and out, each with its occupants 

 intent on the sport of the day, and each possessing 

 a distinct and vivid coloring that lends its charm 

 to the scene. Boldly my little birch is pushed by 

 vigorous paddle strokes into the centre of the lake, 

 for we seek a fishing ground still far away. 



It is early springtime. The water is so cold 

 that we should not wonder if floating ice were 

 seen. Fortunately for us the fish held in this 

 zone of chill must be active to keep from freez- 

 ing, yet there exists the disadvantage that the 

 gaudy, dainty fly is no enticement, so one is forced 

 to offer a more substantial repast. Under these 

 circumstances, we use the live minnow, on a single 

 hook, sunk a trifle under the surface, well swivelled 

 and with plenty of good line, a reel that runs well 

 and can be relied upon, and a rod strong, not 

 heavy, eight to ten ounces in weight. Two rods 

 equipped in this manner we know will give fair 

 play, with plenty of chances for a biting fish to free 

 himself in case of any slight carelessness, or a strike 

 that is too light. We near the battlefield. Several 

 small fish are taken, and fresh baits are made as 

 tempting as possible. Just far enough from the 

 shore, we glide on, still keeping up hope, while 



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