"THE TIGER OF THE RIVER '^ 85 



of golden green. But " handsome is as handsome 

 does," and the rock bass was a poor fighter. The 

 cook holds a different opinion of his merits, and not 

 without good reason. 



The best pike, a fish of 9^ lbs., took a fancy to a 

 large spoon bait intended for his betters, and gave 

 the liveliest play so far. Then a long and uneventful 

 paddle in an atmosphere without a breath of air. 

 There was a violet haze on the water, and nothing 

 broke the stillness of the smooth-flowing river but 

 the regular beat of the Indian's paddle. The rods 

 were set athwart the canoe, a 3^-inch spoon on one 

 and a large Devon minnow on the other. It had 

 been a long day, and as there is only one position 

 possible in a canoe, I was getting weary. The close 

 atmosphere and the smell of the pines began to have 

 a soporific effect, and I closed my eyes. The swi — ish 

 . . . swi — ish, the regular beat of the paddle, grew 

 fainter and fainter . . . swi — ish . . . ish . . . oblivion. 



*' Lunge ! lunge ! " cur-r-r. These were the com- 

 bined noises that awaked me, comprised of Ellick's 

 loud cry of " Lunge ! " and the crescendo scream of a 

 4-inch pike reel revolving like mad. Far away, the 

 line was cutting the water with a hiss. There was no 

 mistake this time — I was fast in a maskalonge. I 

 seized the rod, whilst Ellick reeled up the other to 

 avoid entanglement. The big spoon had done the 

 business, seducing the tiger which had gone forth on 

 his evening prowl. 



