THE BROOK TROUT. 



231 



"Holy Moses!" shouted Joe. "What '11 we do now?" 

 The log began to roll, and in order to maintain my upright 

 position, I was obliged to seat myself astride upon it with my 

 legs in the water. And thus I slowly drifted out into the lake. 

 The consternation of my friends for my mishap soon gave way 

 to mirth, as they saw me comparatively master of the situation, 

 and those irreverent youngsters opened a fire of remarks 

 more or less nautical and tantalizing in their character. 

 "Ship ahoy." "Where are you bound?" "Hard a-lee." 



"Hard down your helm." "Give her the sheet and let 'er 

 howl," etc. 



I made no response, but continued casting to the right and 

 left, as I drifted onward. The talk of large Trout had induced 

 me after dinner to change the red hackle I had used as a 

 stretcher fly for a large blue-jay. I had no expectation of a 

 rise so far from shore, but to my surprise, when almost in the 

 middle of the lake, the jay was taken and by a very large 

 Trout. It was a battle royal which followed, but by the 



