A TROUTINO TRIP TO ST. IGNACE ISLAND. 105 



could help biting on such a clay ! I felt so sure of good 

 luck that I put overboard a wicker-work basket, with 

 a hole in the lid, so arranged, with a falling spring door, 

 that fish could be put in but could not get out, This 

 floated astern and would keep fully a hundred pounds 

 of fish alive, if necessary, for any length of time. Hav- 

 ing fixed everything to my liking, I stood up and made 

 my first cast along the edge of the reef. No result ! 

 but I thought I saw a faint suspicion of a shadowy form 

 or two, and a slight movement of the water just behind 

 my flies. Have been too quick, I thought ; and so 

 tried again, letting the flies this time rest until they 

 sank an inch or so below the surface, when I attempted 

 to draw them slowly in. I say attempted, because they 

 had not moved six inches when first the dropper and 

 then the tail fly were taken in a rush, by two large trout 

 which didn't draw towards me worth a cent, for some 

 fifteen minutes at least. On the contrary they darted 

 away as if the Old Nick was after them with a red-hot 

 frying-pan ; pulling in unison like a pair of well- 

 broken colts and severely trying my rather too light 

 tackle. Any decided check was out of the question. 

 I could only put on such pressure as the single gut 

 leader would bear, and that was sufficient to make a 

 half-circle of my rod. I had beautiful open water in 

 which to play the fish, but as they rushed along and 

 down the face of the submerged cliff, I did not know 

 what hidden dangers might lurk in the unseen depths, 

 nor at what moment a sharp, jagged rock might cut 



