THE CARPENTER'S CATCH. 



W. H. TIPPETTS. 



Carpenter was all the name he ever had. 

 He got into so many scrapes while on the 

 lake that he did not care to have his name 

 known. He and Mace Stone used to have 

 gay times fishing through the ice. One 

 morning when the weather was mild the 

 carpenter went for Mace to go trout fish- 

 ing. He had a lot of perch he had caught 

 through the ice in Heart bay, and as Mace 

 was willing enough they started. 



When they reached the big slide Mace 

 chiseled out 3 or 4 good sized holes in the 

 ice, for there was no knowing how large 

 a fish they might catch. If they should 

 hook a trout weighing 7 or 8 pounds and 

 should have only a perch hole to pull him 

 through there would be trouble. Mace cut 

 the holes big enough for a whale. The 

 carpenter sat down on the upturned bot- 

 tom of his wooden pail and began to fish. 

 Mace sat opposite, not 10 feet away. The 

 perch for bait were in a milk pan on the 

 ice half way between the 2 holes. Mace 

 had taken with him plenty of good red 

 liquor, and as the carpenter was partial 

 to that kind of juice Mace let him have 

 4 or 5 nips before they had been there ^2 

 an hour. It was strong stuff. Mace had 

 bought it of Brodie when he opened that 

 saloon and started in to sell the crowd 

 straight liquor without watering it, with 

 the result that all the bums in town were 

 laid out paralyzed drunk. Aiter^ that ex- 

 perience Erodie watered his whiskey. 



But, as I was saying, the carpenter took 

 3 or 4 nips and then began to doze off. 

 Then an idea hit Mace. He took that milk 

 pan, turned the perch out on the ice, went 

 over and pulled up the carpenter's line until 

 he got the hook in his hand. All that time 

 the carpenter was fast asleep. 



Then Mace punched a hole in the bottom 

 of the pan, tucked the hook through, fas- 

 tened it, and by bending the pan a trifle 

 managed to get it down into the water 



through the hole in the ice. When the line 

 was all run out and the pan settled down 

 to the bottom of the lake, where the water 

 was nearly 100 feet deep, Mace went back 

 to his own place and began fishing again. 

 Then, all at once, he gave a haul at his 

 line and an ear-splitting yell. 



"Carpenter," he cried, "I've got a sock- 

 dologer !" and with that he began to pull 

 in his line. 



The yell so startled the carpenter that 

 he began to tug on his line, and as the 

 milk pan resisted and pulled back and kept 

 skating off to one side and the other, the 

 cuss thought he had, of course, hooked a 

 big fish. Then there was a circus. The 

 carpenter began to yell and pull in his line 

 as though he was crazy; and the more he 

 yelled and pulled the more the milk pan 

 kept pulling the other way. 



"Carpenter," yelled Mace, "won't yer go 

 snucks? My fish has got away!" 



"Not on yer life," said the carpenter. 

 "I've got-ther biggest trout on this line that 

 ever came out of Lake George, and I'll 

 land him if it takes a leg." 



"Say, Carpenter," said Mace, "you and 

 me is partners and it would be a square 

 deal to go snucks." 



But the cuss wouldn't listen to it. He 

 pulled and he tugged. Then he looked 

 down into the hole. Just then the sun 

 came out. 



"Great snakes!" he yelled. _ "He's a trig 

 one ! I can see his eyes glarin' at me !" 



That was too much ! Mace rolled off his 

 pail, speechless with laughter. Then the 

 carpenter gave an extra jerk and up came 

 the milk pan. He looked at Mace, sadly 

 wound up his line, picked up his pail and 

 started for Baldwin. 



After that Mace had only to say "milk 

 pan" and off the carpenter would scoot for 

 home, saying never a word. 



A WOODLAND TEMPLE. 



M. T. MALTBY. 



Still aisles of snow through pillared trees ; 

 Green boughs whose branches intertwine; 

 A gray rock altar, round whose knees 

 Cling Christmas ferns and running pine. 

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