BILLY BISHOP. 27 



Fryer's "Hollands," his starting for home required the 

 courage of a Tarn o' Shanter, which he did not possess. 

 He would go up street with friends and around the back 

 way until his tormentors found it out, and in despair Billy 

 told the story of his persecutions, when he was furnished 

 with an escort and saw no more spooks. 



Once he confided to me a great secret: "If the eels 

 don't bite good," said he, "just go to a stable and look 

 over the horses' legs. You'll find a scab on the inside of 

 every leg, and when this is big and comes off easy just 

 take it and put it in your bob and the eels '11 come a long 

 way to get at it; it is powerful strong, an' they can smell 

 it for miles." 



"Why don't we use it in our bobs?" 



"We don't need it; they bite well enough as it is; we 

 don't want all the eels in the river; what could we do with 

 so many?" 



That was sufficient, and if the thing was ever tried I do 

 not know. Perhaps the idea originated in Billy's brain 

 or was told to him by some joker, yet it is possible that 

 the very powerful odor of that gland would either attract 

 or repel the fish in a decided manner. Let some eel bob- 

 ber try it and report to Forest and Stream. My time for 

 bobbing passed years ago, but if opportunity offers I will 

 try it tentatively in the interest of knowledge. 



Once the shad seiners of the village had arranged to 

 make some hauls at the lower end of the island which lies 

 opposite Albany, and Billy had brought up his little boat 

 the night before and left it at the ferry where "Old Josey," 

 the ferryman, kept his skiff for late night service after the 

 steamboat had finished the day and the horse-boat had 

 carried the early night passengers. The fact became 

 known to "Pop" Huyler, the blacksmith; Charley Brad- 

 bury, the livery man, and Steve Miles, the carpenter. 



