BASS-FISHING IN SUNGAHNEETUK 119 



near the marked bush, drop on my hands and 

 knees, and so get within six feet of the brink with- 

 out seeing the water or being seen by any of its 

 denizens, and lightly drop my minnow out of 

 sight behind the grassy bank. The trick succeeds : 

 here is a minnow without a man, and the lord of 

 the pool seizes his tribute at sight and is fast at the 

 first snap. Then the tough fibers of the lithe rod 

 are tried to their utmost, first to keep him from 

 gaining the vantage-ground of some sunken logs 

 and brush, then to lead him to a clearer field, 

 when he makes a rush, spinning fifteen yards of 

 retarded line off the reel, and, with a surging leap, 

 flies into the air, shakes the hook from his mouth, 

 and leaves me disconsolate. It is small consolation 

 to think that I have added to his wisdom and that 

 he will not dare touch another minnow for a week 

 as small as that contained in Ruisseau's "I 'ms 

 tole you you'll lost him, sartain." Likely enough 

 before he has forgotten the lesson he will be 

 dragged ashore in an unlawful seine or smitten 

 under the fifth rib by a spearer prowling by torch- 

 light. As ignominious was the death of the last 

 salmon of this stream, which, tradition says, was 

 speared by some boys with a pitchfork, a few turns 

 below here, on a June day sixty years ago. 



Slower than the stream flows we follow it where 

 curling deeps promise fruitfulness of fish, trying 

 every foot of such water, sometimes rewarded 



