288 GAME FISH OF NORTH AMERICA. 



line is generally enough to let out, as the pike is not so chary of 

 the passing skiff as are more timid fish, and with much greater 

 length of line no fisherman can capture his game. The oarsman 

 should pull ahead at a fair rate, ready at the instant of hooking a 

 fish to double the speed, for such is the only way to get and keep 

 the advantage of a mascalonge. A large minnow is the most suc- 

 cessful trolling decoy, as the game seems to detect an ordinary 

 spoon at a glance. And when the fish is reeled in, let no flourishes 

 be made with oars or gaff handle, but be cautious, or the pike will 

 free himself and escape at the last moment. In many parts where 

 this fish abounds the spear and seine have been illegally used to 

 capture him, but not very successfully, as he is too cunning and 

 resolute to be caught thus. I saw a seine drawn five times one 

 afternoon in a wide pool below a dam, where several large pike 

 were known to lurk, but nothing was taken. Neither could the 

 failure be accounted for, as the fish did not, as frequently is the 

 case, leap over, break through, or run around the net. To solve 

 the riddle, I entered a small skiff, and tying it to one of the seine 

 floats was quietly drawn across the pool, lying with my face over 

 the gunnel in order to look into the water beneath. What was my 

 surprise to see the pike turn their noses to the seine and plow under 

 it in the sand, thus defying the effort to capture them. 



" Shooting this noble fish as he seeks the surface to sun himself 

 is a favorite sport with some, but it requires a peculiar man to suc- 

 ceed. He must be not only a good rifle shot, but a patient, cunning, 

 cat-like hunter, for his game is exceedingly wary. Such a man, if 

 he can find a convenient tree or cliff overlooking the haunts of the 

 mascalonge, may, after hours of watching, be rewarded by a shot 

 at one of the giants of the species, for it is generally only the 

 largest that roll up in the sunshine. 



" One morning I filled my lunch basket, and had a man row me 

 over to a pile that stood some twelve feet above water and about 

 six rods from shore, the only one left of an ancient dock. Scram- 

 bling to the top, I drew up by a cord hammer, nails, and four or five 

 stiff barrel staves, with which I fashioned a support for my back, 

 as I should sit on top of the pile. Then I drev/ up lunch and rifle, 

 and the man left me "alone in my glory." It was a hot day in 

 June, and before noon, not having had a glimpse of garne, I began 



