AMONG THE NORTHERN PINES 91 



in abundance but were not responsive this summer. 

 Those caught were ridiculously fat. 



To cap the climax of attractions there is a trout 

 stream only three miles away. Visit it? Rather. 

 A friendly neighbour furnished horse and buggy 

 and acted as guide. We had a few alleged angle- 

 worms, and even with these emaciated, scrawny 

 apologies for bait we took enough trout to furnish 

 a meal for each family represented by the anglers. 

 The stream flows through a marsh and is fed by 

 numerous springs. Where we first struck the 

 brook one needed a magnifying glass to find it. 

 How a six-inch trout manages to turn around in 

 it passes understanding. It grows as it goes, how- 

 ever, and widens into quite a respectable stream 

 during its journey of a mile. 



For some years now the writer has been inflict- 

 ing fish stories upon the unsuspecting public, and 

 the impulse is strong within him to add more to 

 those already told. He has a new supply growing 

 out of the experiences of the summer, and it is hard 

 to keep them bottled up. He would gladly particu- 

 larize concerning the ten-inch trout that was wait- 

 ing for him under the roots of a big tamarack just 

 where the foam had formed a shady hiding-place, 

 or mention specially some of the fights with the 

 pike. But the cynical skepticism of assumed 

 friends, the frivolous, not to say contemptuous 

 comments made concerning the writer's previous 

 contributions to piscatorial knowledge, have 



