U-Fish 



misshapen, subaquatic monster rising lazily to the surface 

 and rolling over. The end of an old log, which in the 

 daylight acted as a friendly channel mark, in the misty 

 moonlight seemed to rise menacingly out of the water 

 and reach towards the dodging motor-boat. Several 

 times I ran too close to various cliffs or islands marking 

 the channel, and sheered off only just in time. On one 

 occasion I side-swiped a hidden boulder, and if it had 

 not been for the steel guard, would have broken the 

 propeller. I could have sworn that this rock jumped 

 right out into mid-channel for the sole purpose of attack- 

 ing me. Perhaps if I had watched more consistently 

 the skyline ahead instead of being so horribly fascinated 

 by the antics of the Balcence mysticetce astern, I might 

 have steered straighter. To speak plainly, the happenings 

 of the evening had induced a frenetic condition of the 

 imagination, with a consequent frigorific effect upon my 

 pedal extremities. It was also quite evident that the 

 above effect increased as the square of the size of the 

 moccasins, and as I wore number elevens, you can easily 

 visualize the resultant irresponsible and divaricating 

 course of the boat. 



Once out of the big lake, safely through the Narrows, 

 and popping comfortably across our little home pond, 

 I felt easier in my mind. Before I had tied up at the 

 dock, I had already planned a campaign of crafty assault 

 upon the mysterious denizens of the Deep Channel. 



Sitting down to a late supper, I resolved to say nothing 

 to the various sportsmen and guides until I had had an 

 opportunity of trying to catch one of the big fish without 

 too much help and advice. Knowing that trout were 

 the right bait, I was not worrying on that score. Also, 

 I had a stout steel rod, a brand-new heavy silk salmon 

 line and reel; but what I was to use for a hook and leader 

 baffled me. 



73 



