A LAKER 



run, where they sulk for a time, and from whence 

 they have to be coaxed to the surface. 



I started with a supply of provisions, as two or 

 three days would be required in which to conquer 

 this variety of fish, and there was a log cabin, 

 merely, to provide shelter at the other end of my 

 trip. I confess I was a bit frightened at the pros- 

 pect of the fray. My route lay through a beau- 

 tiful forest, where the fallen leaves made walking 

 most agreeable, and where the effect of sun rays, 

 filtered through the network of brilliant green, 

 thrilled me with keen pleasure as my eyes rested 

 upon the blending of sunlight and shadows. A 

 rippling brook, flowing over moss-grown stones, 

 provided a sparkling, satisfying draught, and the 

 happy chirping of feathered warblers, or the crash 

 of an old-time monarch of the forest, the echoes 

 of its fall pervading the still air, broke any monot- 

 ony that might have existed. Thus the new camp 

 was reached safely. 



After rest and refreshment, putting my tackle 

 together, and selecting a good-sized live minnow, 

 I affixed it to the mass of hooks, and, seating my- 

 self in a fairly comfortable boat, was pulled out 

 into the lake by the guide. I tried to remember 

 my instructions in all details. A good length of 

 line was let out, and then I waited. Suddenly a 



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