An Evening's Fishing. 



for these unfortunates and immediately took them in out of the 

 cold. I watched in vain for the splash of an old settler, but saw 

 nothing to indicate his presence, except plenty of water and 

 feed and why should I expect to find any here when every- 

 body says the stream is "fished out?" Glancing up and down 

 the stream I noticed, on my left, about ten feet from the shore, 

 an old stump around which a lot of brush and driftwood had 

 lodged. The water looked very deep ; altogether it was a very 

 bassy looking piece of stream. I examined my tackle to see 

 if everything was in shape and, stepping out on the extreme 

 point, began casting so as to troll the spoon in just above the 

 edge of the driftwood. I made two casts without any response 

 from below, but at the third, just as the spoon passed the old 

 stump, there was a rush, a splash, and away went the spoon to 

 the bottom. It did not take long to find out that I was fast to 

 an old bronze-backer, and he was making a strong fight against 

 my light cane to reach his home among the roots. After a 

 short, fierce fight of about fifteen minutes, the old fellow gave 

 up and came to land. He was a beautiful, plump black bass 

 of the small-mouth variety, weighing three pounds. 



Another cast, and I was fast to the oldest inhabitant. 

 Round and round he went, the light cane bending in a semi- 

 circle and the line cutting the water with a swish the music 

 that entrances all lovers of this sport. After a hard fight he 

 got away with one of my hooks in his jaw as a memento of our 

 meeting. At this stage of the performance it got too interest- 

 ing for Charley, and he said : 



"Hold on there, Doc, I will tie the horse to the pasture 

 fence, and go down on the point below and help land those big 

 fellows." 



I cast again and hooked another large one, which took the 

 same short-cut for the roots ; but that limber cane was too 

 much for the old fellow and after a few minutes' hard fight he 

 gave up and I slowly trolled him to Charley, who grasped the 

 line and flipped him out. The fish gave a dying kick and 

 dropped into a puddle of water. Down went Charley onto him 



[32] 



