SAILING THE BAFT. 43 



hauled in, while whatever was at the other end of the 

 line, pulled and jerked in a way that proved him to 

 be anything but willing to approach the surface. 

 Being the stronger, of course I had my way, and in a 

 few moments a trout weighing some six pounds, 

 flopped with a jerk upon our raft. A knock on the 

 head with a stick stilled him, and I had one of the 

 genuine " sockdolagers" of the Indian Lake as my 

 captive. 



In the course of an hour we had floated across the 

 lake, and landed on a sandy beach. Here we found 

 numerous tracks of the deer, and the paths, which led 

 away into the forest, indicated that the water was 

 much frequented by them. "We followed a small 

 stream that entered the lake, in the hope of finding a 

 spring of cold water. In this we were not disap- 

 pointed, for a few rods from the shore we found 

 a beautiful fountain, bubbling up from beneath a 

 gnarled and ancient birch. A cup of this, with a 

 sprinkling of old Cogniac, was exceeding comfortable 

 just then. 



Our catamaran, though well enough before the 

 wind, was not a thing upon which we could beat up 

 against it, and we had at least two miles of polling to 



