3218 
of his boat if I wished to test the 
waters near town. I accepted his kind 
offer, but being alone with no one to 
row, I could not manage rod and boat, 
and soon gave up trying. 
Train time found me at the depot, 
and when it drew in I anxiously 
scanned the arrivals for Pedals, whom 
I soon descried making his way toward 
me with a grin on his good-natured 
face that lit it up like a tallow candle in 
a jack-o’-lantern. 
A hearty shake of the hand, a divid- 
ing of the luggage he was carrying, and 
we started forour boat. Mendon isnot 
a large place, and the advent of a 
stranger is sure to be noticed, especially 
if, as in Pedal’s case, there is a notice- 
able air of distinction about one, I 
met with some difficulty in manoeuvring 
him by and around several young 
ladies, who, with conscious indifference, 
blocked our path, it being rendered 
doubly hard by Pedals’ too evident re- 
luctance to hurry himself. At last it 
was accomplished and, once out of sight 
of these charming creatures, we pro- 
ceeded rapidly upon our way. The 
boat was found just where it had been 
left in the forenoon, and in half an hour 
we were in camp. Unknowingly we 
had pitched our tents upon the old 
trail of ’34, nearthe camping ground of 
Sauquette, a chief of the Pottowatamie 
tribe. At this place, sixty years ago, 
thick forests clothed the river’s banks, 
the road, an Indian trail, faint and dim 
beneath their leafy arches; and here 
the wayfarer on foot or horse-back, or 
with slow moving ox team and cum- 
brous covered wagon, all had to ford 
the river if they wished passage to the 
other side. To-day but the faintest 
traces remain of that which was once 
a public thoroughfare. The forésts, 
and with them the redmen, are gone 
The American Angler 
forever; the plow has many times 
turned over their once pleasant hunt- 
ing grounds, and the noble game that 
with their timid step advanced to the 
river's edge for drink, has long since 
disappeared. And these changes oc- 
curred so rapidly that a few old set- 
tlers yet remain who have séen it all. 
Pedals and I remained here two days, 
and then broke camp and moved down 
stream several miles further. On our 
trip down, as soon as we reached the 
bridge known as Wakeman’s, we com- 
menced fishing. One of us would run 
the boat down stream a little distance, 
and then get out fastening it securely 
and leave it for the other one to pick up 
as he fished down, repeating the ma- 
noeuvre as often as we wished. 
A short distance below the bridge 
the river divides and flows around an 
island. At the foot of this island is a 
pool, and upon this trip it was full of 
bass. It lay there dark and still, with- 
out even a ripple to disturb its surface. 
With great caution I approached as 
near as I dared, and working out a 
long cast over another portion of the 
stream, I would then change the direc- 
tion of the flies and drop them on the 
pool. Presto! and it was alive with 
bass, and I had one and sometimes two 
hooked instantly. Then quickly and 
carefully I would turn them into the - 
main stream, fight them down, land 
them, and go back for more. Just 
how often I repeated this I have for- 
gotten, but seven or eight nice bass re- 
warded me before I gave the rest the 
alarm. After they ceased raising I 
loaded into the boat, and catching up 
with Pedals, he also got in and we 
moved on well satisfied. We soon 
passed a farm house, and clambered 
up the bank and presented them with 
our fish. 

