Fool Luck, Trout, Bearand Tragedy 



laughing at the vanquished. Isn't it fortunate that 

 we cannot see future events, for how our pleasurable 

 anticipations might be changed! 



The early gray light was just revealing the half- 

 submerged logs and trees that projected from the 

 shore when I came to the lake. After selecting a 

 nice, big steady looking tree trunk to fish from, I put 

 on a fly and started the day. Oh, what a rotten cast! 

 Right smack dab into the projecting limbs of that same 

 tree sailed my fly, and a good ten minutes were lost. 

 The next trial was better, and it was not very long 

 before a little of the old art returned and the flies were 

 going fairly close to the marks selected. However, no 

 variety seemed to get even a rise. Next came eggs, 

 worms, spoons, and then hooking a piece of red flannel 

 onto a single hooked spoon, I prepared for the final 

 effort, but with no better results. Discouraged I let 

 my line hang slack in the water and started picking 

 up my junk preparatory to moving on, when " Wham ! 

 Scree-e-e ! " something hit that bait like a ton of brick, 

 and line went tearing off the reel at a forty-mile gait. 



Then followed a fight that eclipsed all others in my 

 trouting experience. There seemed to be no tiring 

 of the big boy, and not once did he break water. After 

 what seemed to be the best half of the forenoon his 

 style got weaker, and weaker, and finally he came up 

 within sight of my stand. What a beauty! All of 



105 



