Lost and Found 



wait for the day that fit the bug. But it wasn't long 

 in coming. Here's part of the tragedy it lasted 

 only half an hour. 



We pushed our boat out from camp one very still 

 clear evening at sundown and floated down with the 

 current. The first cast produced a rise, the second 

 a nice bass. From that spot to a thousand feet down- 

 stream we took in tow four beautiful bass, and there 

 were not half a dozen casts at any time without a 

 fish rising. Man, oh man, was it exciting? Many 

 of them turned tail, however, after inspecting my white 

 shirt, that friend wife, who visited camp that day, 

 insisted I put on in the name of decency and which 

 I had forgotten to change for a dark one before start- 

 ing out. 



These fish were taken from a stretch of water that 

 as far as history goes had never yielded a respectable 

 bass. The water was fairly boiling around that bug 

 at nearly every presentation. I was so excited that 

 I guess my nervous hand put rather a natural expres- 

 sion into that bug's manners, which, at any rate, got 

 results in fish and the confidence of my skeptical com- 

 panion who now swears by floating bugs. 



The climax of that evening came when I cast into 

 a nice deep bassy looking hole, which happened to 

 be " the ol' swimmin' hole " of boyhood fame. The 

 bogus insect had hardly touched the water when an 

 old monarch announced with much indignation that 



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