IN THE ALGOMA WOODS 201 



went far towards marring our enjoyment of this 

 otherwise most delightful spot. 



Manitou Lake, three miles from the village, 

 swarms with little-mouth bass. One can hire a rig 

 for a dollar and a half for the day, and many were 

 the hours spent in close and delightful intercourse 

 with the inhabitants of this beautiful body of water. 

 Bass are freaky fish, and one never knows just 

 when they will take a notion to scorn all efforts 

 at their capture. One day Sue and the writer 

 drove over to the lake, and those bass took every- 

 thing that was offered. In a little sandy bay, 

 where the water was not over four feet deep, we 

 anchored and began fishing with minnows. So 

 eager were the fish that both of us were kept busy 

 hauling in the victims and putting on fresh bait. 

 The Senior decided to try a gaudy, artificial fly, 

 and the bass grabbed it with utter disregard of the 

 fact that it resembled nothing which they had ever 

 seen before. The fishing went forward so fast 

 and furiously that it was finally agreed to throw 

 back every bass that was not clearly of three 

 pounds in weight, or more. Urged on by the sport 

 of that day, the whole family started bright and 

 early the next morning to duplicate the delightful 

 experience. Alas! some mysterious change had 

 come over the " spirit of their dream " in fishdom. 

 Not a bass could be found in the little sandy bay 

 where they had thronged only a short twenty-four 

 hours before and, after a day of arduous toil, the 



