BIKING FOR BASS. 



W. W. BLACKWKI.L. 



A short ride brought us to the Au 

 Sable river, in Middlesex County, Michi- 

 gan. Our first care was to search for a 

 hiding place for our bicycles. A spot was 

 found in a clump of haw trees, close to the 

 river's edge. 



We then unstrapped our rods, and dis- 

 cussed the subject of bait. The Major 

 favored rly fishing, but Pete wanted to try 

 grasshoppers and these were also my 

 choice. A few minutes later I was inter- 

 rupted, while catching grasshoppers, by 

 Pete's voice. 



" Major," he said, " give me a handful 

 of 'hoppers. This reel won't work, and 

 you chaps will be ready before I am." I 

 listened for the reply, expecting to hear 

 the Major offer some cheap advice about 

 catching grasshoppers, but he did not. 



"Well, I guess I can spare a few; hold 

 your pocket ready." 



As the Major is not noted for such dis- 

 interested generosity, I suspected a trick. 

 He took a handful of the insects and 

 moved as if to put them into Pete's pocket; 

 but instead of doing so, dropped them be- 

 tween the belt and the sweater. Intense 

 confusion followed, for however useful 

 grasshoppers may be for fishing, they are 

 not desirable to have inside one's bloomers. 



When the excitement died away and the 

 air had lost some of its azure tint, I brought 

 my companions together and got them 

 reconciled. Leaving them at the " swim- 

 ming hole," I went on to where the weeds 

 nearly met in the middle of the river. Here 

 I made a careful cast and dropped the bait 

 in the centre of the clear space. There was 

 a ripple, then a tiny splash, a tightening of 

 the line, and with a rush the fish darted 

 into the weeds. Likewise a part of my line. 



I was disappointed, but not discouraged. 

 Another cast was tried. The bait skipped 

 over the surface of the water in a fair imita- 

 tion of the natural hopper. Soon there 

 was a commotion among the weeds, and 

 the line again tightened. A deft pressure 

 on the rod, and the fish headed for open 

 water. After a few minutes of careful play- 

 ing, the landing-net encircled him. He 

 was a small mouth and weighed 36 ounces. 

 In 10 minutes 3 more were in my creel. 

 As I landed the fourth, my companions 

 came with a pike, a pickerel and 2 bass. 



Pete told of a big hole, a quarter of a 

 mile farther down, so deep he could not 

 touch bottom with his rod. So we decided 

 to investigate. It did look like a good 

 place for pike and bass. An old log in the 

 centre of the river, 2 feet below the surface, 

 was a fine lurking place for big ones. I 

 made a careful cast at the edge of the hole, 



but without reward. Then I tried it again 

 with no better result. 1 then put on a huge 

 blue-bottle fly, but that was no better, in 

 sheer desperation 1 put on a big butterfly 

 and made another cast. A sudden swirl, a 

 splash and whir-r-r went the reel. Off the 

 fish went, 50 yards up stream, and I raised 

 a blister by thumbing the reel. Then back 

 he came, and I took in the slack. Now 

 across the river, back again, and a frantic 

 dash for the log. I turned the butt, and 

 headed him off. Now to the bottom, then 

 up for the surface, leaping 2 feet into the 

 air, trying to shake the hook from his 

 mouth. He doubled, twisted and darted in 

 every direction, but could get no slack line. 

 Gradually his struggles grew weaker, and 

 after a few more dashes, he submitted to- 

 the landing-net. He weighed 5 pounds 7 

 ounces, and was the largest black bass I 

 ever caught. 



My companions now set about to capture 

 his mate, which they believed was still in? 

 the hole. Having earned a rest, I became 

 spectator and critic. Several kinds of bait 

 were tried without success, until Pete used. 

 a live minnow. Scarcely had this touched 

 the water when a big fish took it with a 

 rush. The excitement was too much for 

 Pete. He gave the rod a jerk and it 

 snapped at the third joint. We recovered 

 the broken piece, but the fish was gone. 



The Major thought it had taken refuge 

 under the log. Lying down, he peered 

 earnestly into the water. Finally he de- 

 clared he could see a fish's head protruding 

 from under a root. He made a snare, at- 

 tached this to a pole and lowered it into 

 the water. A sudden jerk, and he shouted, 

 "I've got him!" At the same time he 

 hauled out a big snapping-turtle. Then 

 the Major said it was too hot to fish; with 

 which we agreed. 



Returning to the pasture, we were within 

 a short distance of our wheels, when an 

 exclamation from Pete put us into a panic. 

 A steer was running frantically across the 

 field with a bicycle on his horns. Never 

 did Zimmermann, in palmiest days, take a 

 wheel over a track so fast as that terrified 

 brute took this one. His horns were 

 through the rear wheel while the front 

 wheel was pounding his forelegs. 



The bike was only slightly injured, as yet; 

 but just as the brute started up a hill, one 

 of his forefeet went crashing through the 

 other wheel. Both steer and bicycle came 

 to the ground in a confused heap. All the- 

 accidents to which a wheel is prone hap- 

 pened to that one in a few seconds. By 

 the time the animate and the inanimate 

 were separated, we arrived on the scene. A 



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