FISH SKETCHES AND FISH STORIES 371 



"My mouth?" screamed the little dominie. 

 "What in the name of of er common sense 

 has that to do with fishing?" But the backwoods- 

 man deigned no reply. 



It would be difficult for me to explain exactly 

 what Stanley meant by his sarcastic remark; but 

 it was plain to see that the buckskin man did not 

 approve of the sky-pilot's "get up." 



On a bunch of grass in the bottom of the canoe 

 lay 



A FEW TWELVE-INCH TROUT, 



the result of some random casting during the 

 progress of our journey up the lake to the river's 

 mouth. Our catch was by no means great enough 

 to permit of boasting on our part, and after Stan- 

 ley's ungracious reply to the little minister I felt 

 that we must sustain our assumed superiority at all 

 hazards. 



"SURE, IT'S UP AGIN' us 



to show fish; but we'll get 'em all right, or my 

 name is not George Stanley. Unhitch that leader 

 and string o' flies, and drop 'em in the water in the 

 bottom of the canoe to soak awhile," said the back- 

 woodsman. "There, that's the ticket! Now I'll 

 show you a trick that'll open that gospel-sharp's 

 eyes," continued the mountain man as he produced 

 a stiff piece of wire from some mysterious source, 

 and using one of the boulders for an anvil and a 



