BASS-FISHING IN SUNGAHNEETUK 117 



too near the driftwood. The minnow gets among 

 it, and the hook is snagged. Ruisseau helps me 

 out of the scrape with some swearing and a possibly 

 more effective pole, and I suffer no loss but of time, 

 patience, a hook, and part of a snell. The re- 

 maining bass can hardly wait for their turn while 

 I am bending on a new hook and rebaiting. They 

 come close to the surface, underseeing the opera- 

 tion, and then in turn they are served out. 



The next loop of the stream is cast about a 

 wooded bank, and in it, on a sandy shallow, is a 

 swarm of "rock," or "sand pike," handsome little 

 fellows, with barred sides, the largest among them 

 not exceeding four inches in length. All are hug- 

 ging the golden, shimmering bottom, casting their 

 spawn and milt. 



In a deeper rapid three or four large suckers 

 are heading the swift current, as motionless as if 

 moored there. A boy, with a noose of brass wire 

 at the end of a pole, is trying to snare one, for our 

 suckers are true to then' name, and never bite. 

 After much slow and careful maneuvering, he gets 

 it midway inside the noose, and with a vigorous 

 pull throws it out, and there is a happy boy and a 

 most unhappy fish. 



Presently we come to the wide, deep pool known 

 as the "Dixon Hole," and under its sheltering 

 elms eat our lunch and moisten it with Sungah- 

 neetuk, this year's vintage of mountain snows, 



