s 



RECREA TION. 



and was running straight ahead, keeping 

 up an even lope. But those ears of his must 

 come down, and he be made to slide out 

 at that great gait of his which is such a sur- 

 prise to a green dog who thinks he can run. 

 I was getting nearer, but those ears still 

 stayed up in spite of me. In the light of the 

 lamp he showed as plain as in daylight. I 

 was gaining. He was about 18 or 20 yards 

 away; then not more than 12. How I 

 wished I had a fishing rod to reach him 

 with. I didn't see any road under him. 

 That had long since disappeared into a 

 brown looking sheet like a swift, noiseless 

 waterfall. Those ears! Up they stood, de- 

 fying me. I was still gaining. His eye 

 looked a little scared; he ducked his head; 

 but those ears came up again, in spite of 

 me. That black tail stood up straight, like 

 a union jack standing straight out under a 

 stiff breeze above the stern of a yacht. 

 Whisk! Down went the ears. Ziz-s-s-t! 



He shot out of the road into the sunflowers 

 at the side as slick as a piece of wet soap. 

 Whew! I had no idea I was going so fast. 

 I was tearing along the road like a shell from 

 a 13 inch gun. The click of my cyclometer 

 sounded like a slat drawn along a picket 

 fence by a boy going swimming. My breath 

 — what there was of it — was jerking like a 

 nervous woman in a hurry. The pace must 

 have been a surprise to mosquitoes and 

 other beasts of prey which I suppose I 

 passed in the road. It was altogether too 

 hot to be continued. Visions of deep 

 ruts and doctors' bills began to be mingled 

 with those of mud holes and wagons. My 

 pace slackened to normal, and I finally 

 reached home. Not till then did I discover 

 my clothing was wet through with perspira- 

 tion. I was soon telling of my experience, 

 between brow moppings, and forgot the de- 

 gree Reaumer that my blood had attained. 

 The next morning I had a 13 inch cold. 



This cut was published in the Detroit Sunday News-Tribune of August 28th, with the following caption : 

 "A DAY'S FISHING IN McGREGOR BAY. 

 Some 450 pounds of fish, consisting of bass, pickerel and muscalonge, caught by the Georgian Bay party." 



The story accompanying the picture was written by Mr. J. H. Hoffner of Detroit, who states that his friends who 

 appear with him in the photo are George Huntington and Frank S. Clark. These men have evidently not yet learned 

 that they are regarded as fish hogs by all the decent sportsmen in the country, but it is hoped they will be thoroughly 

 aware of that fact when they see their picture in Recreation. 



