The Kejimkujik Monster 



waters of the Kejimkujik River, ranging between Arthur's 

 Ledges and the mouth. From their accounts there was 

 a perfectly reasonable inference to be drawn that there 

 might be a number of " him." 



There was a peculiar similarity about the ending of 

 all these fish stories. It seems that although the fish 

 had been authentically hooked a number of times and 

 played for some minutes, at the time he took the fly he 

 would never come out of the water, but only show his 

 great black back or broad, square tail. After, that he 

 would keep well submerged in the deep pools. No city 

 fisherman had yet been equipped with sufficiently strong 

 tackle to pull or " pump " the fish enough to take in any 

 line after the first downstream rush of this powerful 

 outlaw. He took line sometimes with a rush and some- 

 times with slow, persistent, tugging jerks; then he would 

 go into a deep hole, sound and sulk. Failing in the 

 attempt to dislodge him, the angler, finding himself 

 hooked to the trout instead of vice versa, would have the 

 canoe dropped downstream so he could take in line and 

 prepare for another rush. After navigating as close 

 to the chosen lair of the big scrapper as was thought 

 prudent, the fisherman would increase the strain on his 

 tackle to the limit, with the object of starting the fish. 

 Finding no response to these manoeuvres, he'd try jerking 

 and pulling, and end by breaking his leader and losing it. 

 He might give up the fight, slack his line, paddle right 

 into the pool, pulling in the line hand over hand, only 

 to find it securely wound around a submerged log or 

 windfall. Almost every story ended with the leader 

 fast to a sunken log* 



Ma-tee-o, an old Micmac Indian, was sitting in front 

 of his tent making pack-baskets when we arrived at our 

 new camp at Lowe's Landing in the memorable spring 

 of 1908. After partially getting our house in order we 



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