TWO TENDERFEET IN THE GRAND DISCHARGE. 



in 



the majority running about 1^2 pounds 

 each. Several weighed 3 pounds and some 

 but little less. We lost at least 15, and 

 some half dozen we threw back because 

 of their small size. 



As we started away from the little is- 

 land, homeward bound, we had an oppor- 

 tunity of witnessing once more the almost 

 superhuman skill of our guides in navigat- 

 ing the canoe. In a driving rain, with a 

 stiff wind blowing across the bay, we 

 started to cross the foot of the rapids we 

 had come over in the morning. It was 

 a different proposition in the face of fit- 

 ful gusts of wind, which added to the tur- 

 bulence and choppiness of the water, to 

 say nothing of over 50 pounds additional 

 weight in the canoe. Our crossing in the 

 morning had been made in silence. I 

 noticed this time, however, that every few 

 minutes old Joe would drop a word in 

 the musical French patois. It would be 

 answered by an eloquent "Oui" from the 

 son, immediately followed by some par- 

 ticular stroke of the paddle which turned 

 the canoe at right angles from its appar- 

 ent course, to hold it motionless amid the 

 churning foam and avoid running into the 

 crest of an oncoming wave which threat- 

 ened to engulf the frail craft and which 

 in the twinkling of an eye would either 

 be turned aside by a sudden change in the 

 current or cut off at the crest by a stroke 

 of the paddle. It was marvelous ! While 

 my heart nearly stopped beating I simply 

 sat still and wondered at the almost mir- 

 aculous feats performed by those voy- 

 ageurs, and whether we would really reach 

 the shore without a mishap. Mrs. Wife 

 said it was enough to give a person 

 "nerves," and I agreed with her. 



On the way down in the morning we 

 had passed though a portion of the chan- 

 nel which was divided by a small island 

 about 100 feet from the mainland, and not 

 far above the head of the long portage. 

 A big rock jutted out from the main shore 

 at a point midway of the length of the 

 island opposite. I noticed that we shot 

 past the little island like a streak, without 

 appreciating that we would have to pass 

 the same way on our return. On the way 

 back that evening we hugged the shore 

 closely all the way up to the projecting 

 rock in order to avoid the effect of the 

 wind and current. When we reached that 



point, however, it was more than apparent 

 that no canoe could be paddled up that 

 short ascent by any 2 men. The stream 

 was running like a mill race and eddying 

 around the big rock like a whirlpool. 



What to do was the question in my 

 mind, when like a flash the canoe was 

 turned just before the rock was reached 

 and shot almost at right angles across the 

 stream, both men bending to their paddles 

 with all their might and main. Just as it 

 seemed inevitable that we would be swept 

 past the lower end of the island and into 

 the rapids, a final stroke sent the nose of 

 the canoe within a foot of the sheer rock 

 and another turn brought it up alongside 

 as gracefully as a swan. 



"Bon!" ejaculated old Morel, as he 

 braced his paddle against the rock and 

 drew a long breath, and I understood just 

 enough French to appreciate how he felt. 

 The remainder of the run home was une- 

 ventful, except that the rain continued 

 falling heavily. By the time we reached 

 the Island House there was about an inch 

 of water in the bottom of the canoe, and 

 we were sitting in it ; but there were 26 

 ouananische and 2 18 carat guides keep- 

 ing us company and we cared nothing. 



The next day found us on board the 

 Mistassini on . our way back to the Rob- 

 erval. Beemer spoke the truth when he 

 said our experience in ouananiche fishing 

 would spoil us for future sport with the 

 fly. We had been initiated at the top of the 

 ladder and further experience would be in 

 the nature of a retrogression, unless we 

 should return to Lake St. John, for we 

 had met and conquered the greatest game 

 fish in North America. 



As I look back on that day's glorious 

 sport at the foot of the rapids of the 

 grand e chute in the Grand Discharge, it 

 makes me feel humble. When I think 

 of the gall I had to venture to lure that 

 greatest of all game fishes without any 

 experience in handling a rod or casting a 

 fly, I shudder. That it should have been 

 on the cards for a genus loppestre like me 

 to land that kingly 4^ pounder that came 

 to net at the eleventh hour, and in one 

 brief day to demolish the traditions of 

 sharps who have been writing for years 

 on the experience and expertness neces- 

 sary to angle successfully for the ouanan- 

 iche, makes me proud. 



Her Fashionable Friend — Why didn't you 

 bring the baby? 



The New Mamma — I did want to, but 

 there wasn't room in the carriage for her 

 and my doggie too. — Chicago Record-Her- 

 ald. 



