JOHN AND FRANK. 139 



" Nonsense ; you don't know any thing about it." 



Unruffled by the short reply, which certainly seemed 

 sufficiently impertinent from a couple of city sportsmen 

 to a group of Adirondack guides, John M'Laughlin ap- 

 pealed earnestly to Frank Hobart, saying, " Now, Frank, 

 what do you say, will trout rise to a fly in the St. Regis 

 waters before the last of May ?" 



" No, they won't," was Frank's categorical answer. 



" Do they ever rise nowadays at Peter's Rock ?." I 

 asked. 



" Yes, in the season, plenty of them." 



" Then just get your boats on the water, and we'll show 

 you whether they will rise as early as this." 



In ten minutes or less we were standing on the rock, 

 and at the second or third cast a half-pound fish came 

 up and took the bobber with a rush, as if he wanted it. I 

 had scarcely struck him when Dupont had a larger one 

 on his tail fly. John looked at Frank and said nothing. 

 Another and another rose and were landed, but as yet 

 no large fish. At length, casting along the edge of the 

 rock, 1 struck a full-pound trout, and he was one of the 

 strongest fish of his size that I have ever seen. When he 

 was landed, John quietly remarked : 



" Well, Frank, I'm beat, and I give it up — don't you?" 



" Yes, I give it up," said Frank quietly, and walked 

 clown the rock to hand Dupont his landing-net for another 

 full-pound fish. 



" Now, I'll tell you," said John, in a reflecting, thought- 

 ful tone, "I'll tell you what it is. We have a way of do- 

 ing things always in the same way, and we begin every 

 spring with trolling for lake trout, and we think there's no 

 use fly-fishing till the trolling season is well over ; and 

 the fact is, nobody ever thought of throwing a fly here as 



