Tragic Fishing Moments 



Ye old fishermen knowing the sensations we ex- 

 perience when playing a good fish may well wonder 

 what part I took during those tragic moments. Did 

 I take the rod part of the time just to show the boy 

 how? I did not. Did I want to? I surly did, but 

 wouldn't have touched it for a thousand dollars. As 

 I slipped the landing net under the tired but still 

 scrappy fish, the hook dropped out of his mouth ! And 

 then I did something. I yelled so you could have 

 heard me a mile and I leaned over and hugged that 

 boy. Now, wouldn't you like to? 



And how about the boy ? For the first time since the 

 scrap started he spoke. " Gee ! what a lunker !" was 

 all he could say. And he looked pale around the 

 gills and did not care to fish any more that day. 



The boat we christened " Kingfisher " and the new 

 cabin we built last summer, on the site of the old one, 

 is named " Kingfisher's Roost." You'll find us there 

 this summer and many more, I hope, and I can take 

 you out and show you the hole the bass came out of 

 and the picture of the lad who took him out and 

 of the rod and of the fish, which weighed four 

 pounds. 



And now we come to the real tragic part of it all. 

 Did you ever notice how few boys you see fishing 

 with their dads? Oh! ye fathers and grandfathers, 

 have a heart and give the boys a chance; give them a 

 start towards good health; give them a broader, better 



90 



