THE UNKNOWN LAKE. Ill 



This was the same story I had heard at a distance, 

 and it confirmed my hopes. I chatted a while with the 

 sawyers, and tried the contents of their pond. A few 

 casts brought up some small trout, and at length a very 

 decent fish, perhaps a pound in weight, rose to the scar- 

 let ibis. Landing him, and leaving him with the others 

 for the use of the men, who had never before seen fly- 

 fishing, and were astonished at the process, I pushed on 

 in the afternoon toward the unknown lake or pond. The 

 road became less a road and more a path as it ascended 

 hill after hill, winding and pleasant, but always tending 

 upward. At last it opened on a large clearing where 

 stood a ruined log house, deserted long ago, and a tol- 

 erably decent barn, in which there was a small quantity 

 of dry hay. This was an unexpected luxury, for I had 

 calculated on a night in camp. I took possession of the 

 only tenantable end of the log house, deposited my pack- 

 ages, and resolved to make this my head-quarters, since 

 it was evident the lake was distant not over a mile at 

 most. Then taking a light rod I plunged into the forest, 

 and in less than half an hour emerged on the banks of 

 the lake. It lacked an hour of sunset, and there was 

 but little time for the examination of the shores. Boat 

 there was none. The unbroken forest surrounded the 

 sheet of water. There was no time this evening to con- 

 struct a raft, and if I was to have trout for supper, it 

 must be by casting from the shore, and so I went to work 

 at once. 



In visiting a new lake like this, the chances are always 

 against the fisherman. He knows nothing of the special 

 haunts of the trout, and can form no opinion of the shape 

 of the bottom of the pond — an idea of which is generally 

 necessary to guide one in looking for this fish. The 



