THE PIKE 



The boatman is always maintaining an easy pace, 

 just sufficient, in fact, to keep the spoon on the 

 spin, and it often happens that a slightly hooked fish 

 escapes by tearage. The coarse triangle, however, 

 once within the bony jaws would be struck into 

 firm holding with the first rush. Rowing out 

 towards a boat where a gentleman was trailing in this 

 primitive fashion, the boatman informed me that the 

 Indians of whom a tribe or two or the remnants of 

 them are allowed to live and do a little farming on 

 the island opposite have a tradition that in August 

 and part of September the lunge shed their teeth, 

 and that during this period they never take bait or 

 food in any shape or form. Whether there is any 

 truth in this I know not, but, thinking the boatman 

 might have informed me of it by way of moderating 

 any expectations I might have of sport, I made sub- 

 sequent inquiries from a professor in Toronto, and 

 he said that the legend certainly did exist. 



On approaching the canoe aforementioned I 

 heard a shout of ' Yank him in,' and this drew my atten- 

 tion to a lunge of less than a yard in length pully- 

 haulied over the gunwale of the canoe. The captor, 

 I noticed, had jerked his line to and fro, and 

 struck with terrific force. An ordinary fish would 

 have been decapitated, but the lunge (apparently 



