IN A FISHING COUNTRY 



his head, bass-like, in rage at the fly. After 

 ten minutes of a furious struggle, in which 

 he was never spared for an instant, he won 

 freedom, the hook tore out, and the fisher- 

 man charges himself with undue severity 

 of method toward so heavy a fish. Equally 

 he might have had to blame himself, using 

 a gentler hand; but, whichever the winning 

 tactics, there was excellent opportunity for 

 appraisal in all the three dimensions, and 

 both the observers assert that beyond a per- 

 adventure the lake holds at least one trout 

 of the six-pound class. 



Lac Emmuraille is ceiled with ice, the 

 birches toss their stark branches in the north 

 wind, the snows lie heavy on the spruces, 

 deep upon the trail; but memory and hope 

 may travel to its shores undeterred by 

 winter storms, in the weather of unchang- 

 ing springtime. 



104 



