A Lost Opportunity 



portrayed them beautifully. Almost lifeless they 

 seemed, so still did they lie. A slight fin and tail 

 movement was visible that was all. 



I dropped that anchor ever so gently and reached 

 for my rod with a shaking hand. Now for action. 

 I really hesitated to cast I might scatter them yet 

 I could not wait longer. My first cast brought action. 

 A smashing strike, a few minutes of the hardest 

 fighting, and I had him in the boat three pounds 

 of obstinate bass. For just a moment I surveyed the 

 situation. Had I scattered their ranks? Apparently 

 not. I cast again. More action. My plug barely hit 

 the water when there was a savage tug then more 

 fight. 



When I drew him alongside the boat several others 

 followed. I surmised they were badly disappointed at 

 not having that wobbler for their own. Well, they 

 would have their chance directly. I cast the third time, 

 then the fourth always the same, strike, fight, and 

 capture. 



In four casts I had hooked and landed four bass - 

 and then it happened. My fifth cast ended in winding 

 my lure around my neck. In all my excitement I had 

 failed to wind my line evenly on my reel. This had 

 been my reward. I tore those hooks out clothing 

 mattered little then, and proceeded to undo that bird's 

 nest of snarls. But it would not be undone. Instead, 

 all I could do seemed to make it only worse. I reached 



258 



