A NOVEL LURE 



be imagined when Ned stepped calmly into 

 the stream and began wading toward its 

 source. He could say nothing, but naturally 

 followed. 



They emerged shortly into an open 

 meadow and here there was plenty of space 

 and one decent pool. 



The Angler suggested to Ned that he whip 

 this pool most thoroughly, while he would 

 follow the stream higher up and ascertain 

 the lay of the land. 



This he did, finding that the brook be- 

 came smaller and smaller and almost hid- 

 den by long grasses. To try flies seemed use- 

 less. A small foot bridge made of two planks 

 attracted his attention. A fair amount of 

 water flowed underneath. 



He now removed the leader and substi- 

 tuted a baited hook. Crawling near enough 

 to toss it into the brook, a trout was taken, 

 so he kept on until he had half a dozen. These 

 were sufficient for lunch and he stopped fish- 

 ing, leisurely wandering toward the pool. 

 The stream he decided was only a brooklet, 

 having its source among the hills. There 

 were no other pools. 



Ned, The Fisherman, was still sitting on 

 the bank, the sun at his back, bobbing the 



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