Tragic Fishing Moments 



caught in the bottom of the boat. I reached down 

 quickly, found the crack which pinched the line and 

 drew it out backward by main strength. The bass 

 was surging at the other end : I believe I was trying 

 to pull him in hand over hand. Billie began to shout 

 advice a dire rending and my heart sank within me 

 the bass was gone ! He had again torn loose upon 

 his first long, strong, determined rush. 



No, my most tragic fishing moment has not been 

 related. One fine September evening, Hughan and 

 I were on our way down the lake to the village when 

 the outboard motor began to labor. 



" Something caught in the propeller," said Hughan 

 as he shut down the gas. A shot rang out from the 

 woods and a bullet skipped over the water behind us. 

 Then we heard someone running through the brush. 



Hughan reached down and untangled a gill net from 

 the blades of the propeller. The net was hauled in, but 

 we found no captives until near the end, when some- 

 thing heavy was felt. Hughan drew the weight aboard 

 and there was my monster bass dead! 



That was my most tragic fishing moment. My hero 

 had bled to death in the gill net. He had escaped from 

 a score of honest sportsmen, only to fall a victim to the 

 lawless instruments of vicious scoundrels. 



We destroyed the net and reported the case to the 

 local game warden. No one was apprehended and 

 the gill netters native sons have since ruined the 

 fishing of the most beautiful lake in South Jersey. 



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