GREAT PIKE AND LIVE BAIT 



his home to tell of his adventures. It was while fishing 

 for well-beloved "sunnies" in a pocket amid the weeds— 

 for I love to fish for the little fellows with a two-and-one- 

 half-ounce fly rod, and have an appetite for sunnies 

 rolled in cracker crumbs and fried in sweet butter — that 

 I was "introduced" to "Big Arthur." When I saw 

 him dash out from his lair not ten feet distant from my 

 location and capture an unfortunate perch, I mentally 

 resolved to try conclusions with him. 



Hastily I fastened a four-inch perch to a strong hook 

 which I had in my tackle-box, and sent the little fellow 

 hurtling through the air to land "plop!" right where 

 the attack had been made. Nothing resulted, and I 

 thought that I caught a glimpse of a shadowy form 

 slipping through the water. When too late, I told my- 

 self what a fool I had been. "Big Arthur" was not in 

 the habit of having his fish come flying through the 

 air to land right in front of him with noise and com- 

 motion. Long life had made him sly and wise beyond 

 his kind. 



Next morning I was in my position betimes and 

 ready for the battle, but my friend the enemy was not 

 at home; "off his feed," suspicious, or something; at 

 any rate, I failed to make connections or even catch 

 a glimpse of his greenish-gray body. Then I rested 

 the pool for a week, and one night as the heavy shades 

 crept in from the east I quietly drew a sunfish through 

 the water over his lurking-place. That time I con- 

 nected up all right— and still have a broken three and 

 one-half-ounce caster as a memento of the battle. So 

 it went all that season and the next. Now and then 

 I would see the fish, once in a blue moon induce him 

 to strike, semi-occasionally— fifteen times during the 



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