CHAPTER XXVIII. 



TROUTING ON THE NAMECAGON. 



MR. T. S. POWERS A TYPICAL SPORTSMAN THE VILLAGE OF 



OUT IN THE STREAM MULTITUDES OF TROUT MOSQUITO CREEK. 



He greedily sucks in the twining bait, 

 And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat. 



Now, happy fisherman, now twitch the line! 

 How the rod bends ! Behold the prize is thine ! 



I WAS a passenger on a north-bound train on the North 

 Wisconsin railroad one day near the last of May, and as the 

 .train stopped at a small station away up in the great pine 

 woods, I saw half-a-dozen sportsmen, equipped with fishing 

 tackle and camping outfit, enter the smoking-car. I scanned 

 their sun-browned countenances to see if I might recognize 

 any of them, for I feel an instinctive affinity for any man 

 whom I see with a fishing-rod or gun in his hand. I was 

 rewarded and delighted to see in the front rank of the party 

 the genial face of that typical sportsman and prince of good 

 fellows, Mr. T. S. Powers, of Tomah, Wis. He introduced 

 me to his friends, Messrs. M. A. Thayer and his son Charlie, 

 D. D. Cheeney, Henry Foster and Mr. Guell, all of Sparta; 

 R. P. Hitchcock, of Tomah, and Leroy Wheaton, of Hutch- 

 inson. All hands gave me a pressing invitation to join them, 

 and as I was on the same errand as they were, I was only too 

 glad to do so. 



Our destination was the Namecagon river, one of the 

 tributaries of the St. Croix. The railroad crosses the Name- 

 cagon three times, and as we looked at its clear swift waters 

 and foaming rapids from the car windows, we felt assured pf 



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