380 Sporting Sketches 



fiend was on my track, for a four-minute bay road- 

 ster and a dainty Portland were behind, and Jim 

 would as soon do what he said as not. 



For a hundred yards we had it hot as we could 

 lay foot to snow; then I heard the dull blows of fly- 

 ing feet and a sharp " Hi ! " and dodged aside just 

 in time to clear the rush of one of the tidiest gentle- 

 man's roadsters in the country. 



Jim could hardly pull up inside of fifty yards, for 

 the good bay's blood was hot ; but finally the horse 

 steadied, and Jim sung out: "Come, pile in here! 

 I want to use you." 



"What for?" 



" I'm off for the bay. Spearing's prime, and we'll 

 have a try at it. Everything's ready down there 

 spears and all in the shanty so in you get." 



No better fun was wanted, and away we jingled 

 through the town and thence westward over an 

 excellent country road toward Mitchell's Bay, on 

 Lake St. Clair, famous for black bass, 'lunge, and 

 waterfowl since the days of " Frank Forester." 



Mile after mile our game horse flung behind, now 

 passing fat farms great levels of white now 

 waking the echoes of dense, shadowy woods with 

 the crisp jingle of the bells, until at last we reached 

 the frozen marsh and the small hotel beside the bay. 



Very brief time sufficed for final arrangements, and 

 we were soon in our shanty, one of several similar 

 in construction that were scattered over the ice. 

 These shanties are built of rough boards and are 

 large enough to accommodate two men and leave 

 room for a small stove. The repfs are high enough 

 to allow the use of a short-handled spear, and fre- 



