With Gun P Rod in Canada 



light down into the water, several of the big fish swam 

 curiously into the iridescent circle, but did not come 

 close enough for me to reach them with the weed-hook. 

 I longed for a fish-spear. Cold, hungry, and disappointed, 

 I gave it up for the night, and made camp and supper 

 by nine o'clock. 



I have tried for the big fish upon several occasions 

 since, and have been hooked to them twice, each time 

 with disastrous results to my fishing gear. No fisherman 

 has turned up at my camp with either the patience or 

 apparatus for handling anything so heavy or so vicious 

 as these smashers seem to be. The discouraging part 

 of the whole business is that I know from experience 

 that one can fish for an entire week, and toss them every- 

 thing from a live trout to a spoon made out of a twenty- 

 dollar gold piece, without the desired result. 



But when they do take it into their heads to bite, they 

 fight right. 



