382 Sporting Sketches 



the lure minnow in most artistic style for a consider- 

 able time. Then something came ! It came, it 

 saw, it vanished, leaving a phosphorescent gleam in 

 the water to mark its lightning flight. I had barely 

 time to note that it was a sturdy old bass, and Jim's 

 hand hardly closed on the spear ere it had gained 

 the dim whence. It evidently wanted naught of 

 the minnow or spear. 



More time passed, and then came a pickerel. 

 Slow and shining, he floated upward, his wall-eyes 

 glowing on the fancied prey, and Jim poked fun 

 into him vigorously ; and the pointed joke was too 

 much for pickerel self-control, and he let his life slip 

 away in his excitement. Three or four more were 

 taken in the same fashion within the hour, and they 

 were all fine fish of their kind. Then Jim insisted 

 that I should take the spear and let him play the 

 lure. 



For half an hour I sat and stared at the water. 

 Then I yawned and filled my pipe anew, and then it 

 may be that I fretted at the hard luck on general 

 principles. Be that as it may, I presently spied 

 something which roused all the fierce impulse of 

 sport in me. Jim saw it, too, and he played his 

 minnow a trifle farther away. 



From under the lower edge of the ice crept 

 something that looked for all the world like the toe 

 of an old rubber boot, surrounded by a luminous halo. 

 Farther and farther it crept, so slowly that it seemed 

 scarce to move, until it showed a greener cast and 

 bony ridges. Then the gleam in the water increased, 

 and we saw two terrible eyes that glowed like wee 

 incandescent lamps. Then Jim suddenly lowered 



