The Tragedy of a Barbless Hook 



prayed for a barb on the end of that Reuben Wood. 

 All the while, my friend T., who is a better fisherman 

 than an angler hope he sees this was jumping up 

 and down shouting, " Lord A'mighty, pull 'im out, pull 

 'im out." Whether he was shouting directions to me 

 or whether he was also praying, I have never learned, 

 but if he was praying I could have told him that 

 the Lord knew that such a fish as this could not be 

 pulled out! 



Somehow I managed to maneuver from the bank 

 onto the fallen log that crossed the slough, and some- 

 how that barbless small hook managed to stay with 

 the old fellow. My hope was that I could wear the 

 trout down, and in some fashion lead him up to the log 

 and to net. Just how this was to be accomplished I 

 did not know, for my ideas of execution were not 

 keeping pace with my hopes and desires. I must have 

 resembled an oriental dancer trying to stay on that 

 log and play that trout. The water was far over my 

 waders, and I had no desire to be anywhere but right 

 on that log. For a long while luck was with me and 

 I managed to keep my line taut and the hook stayed 

 with the old boy despite his acrobatics. 



Nearer and nearer I played him to the log. At 

 the end of each wild rush that old boy found himself 

 a little nearer the log. He was tiring rapidly, and 

 at last he rushed in shore near the end of the log, went 

 down and sulked. I can see him now as he lay there 



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