CHAPTER IV. 



CEDAR LAKE. TUBBY'S SECOND RUN. A PATRIOTIC 

 LOBSTER. 



There are some persons of so peculiarly receptive 

 temperament that, once an idea finds lodgment in their 

 brain, it remains to the utter exclusion of everything 

 else. Cedar Lake is always associated in my mind 

 with such an individual. His name was Percy Regi- 

 nald Plantaganet Tubbs. It follows without saying that 

 an individual bearing so luxuriant an appendage of 

 given names was of British extraction. According to 

 his own version he was a dark, dark, blue-blooded 

 aristocrat, tracing a direct lineal descent from King 

 Alfred of burnt cake renown; but according to the re- 

 port of his bosom friend and fellow refugee, Jimmy 

 Smith, Tubbs, or Tubby as we always called him, was 

 the result of a common-law marriage between a Bill- 

 ingsgate fish girl and a Shoreditch bogle jerker, or in 

 other words, one of those industrious individuals in- 

 digenous to all large cities, who nnd pocketbooks before 

 they are lost. 



However, it is not of Tubbs' pedigree I would speak, 

 but rather* of his angling exploits. The first time I 

 fished Cedar Lake I took Tubby with me, intending to 

 initiate him into the mysteries of pickerel fishing. 



The first day I had to run over to Waukegan on busi- 

 ness. But, before doing so, I took Tubby down to the 

 lake, rigged him out with suitable tackle, and a big 

 bob float beneath which dangled an unusually large, 

 lively chub. My principal instruction to Tubby was 

 the following: 



"When a pickerel takes the bait, let him have it un- 

 til he makes the second run; then strike him! But, on 

 (37) 



