TRIBULATIONS OF LIVE-BAIT ANGLERS 119 



we start off under the directions of an angling 

 friend to that little sand-bar just below the third 

 rapid, only about a mile away, and near by in 

 the bushes a spade is hidden. We search but do 

 not find, search again to find tracks of some 

 previous angler who has been there, only to hide 

 the spade in another place, and we hunt again 

 in every likely spot until at last, in despair we 

 pick up an old piece of iron-sheathing to do duty 

 as a spade. Every bass fisherman knows that 

 lampreys lie about six inches deep in wet muddy 

 sand. Even with an improved patent spade work 

 is hard, lampreys wofully scarce. We perhaps turn 

 over a few little ones and these we grab quickly 

 enough after infinite pains; secure three or four 

 nice ones; even those we think, better than nothing, 

 for the truth is, we are too tired after such labor 

 to go at the fishing with the same vim we felt in 

 the morning hours. Well, we have got them, we 

 think, snugly packed in grass, the tin can securely 

 tight in our pocket, convenient to abstract even 

 when wading waist-deep in the current. But alas ! 

 The slippery eel was not made to handle with 

 one hand, nor the rod to float obediently by our 

 side. While capturing the slimy critters to hook, 

 flop ! goes our big one into the water. Another 



