■A SUMMER LAKE. 



87 



ing larger than a 1^ -pound lake 

 trout. My skepticism of the existence 

 of those rumored large ones increased 

 each day, and found freer expression, 

 until finally I boldly asserted to the 

 good man who furnished me food and 

 shelter that to my mind those tales 

 were but a lure for the unwary, that 

 they might be brought to their undo- 

 ing. He was a kind, generous man, 

 and had treated me rightly ever since 

 my arrival. Shame should have held 

 me silent ; but later I received my pun- 

 ishment. One morning I rowed down 

 the Eastern side of the lake across 

 the North end, up the Western side 

 and across again ; all the time dili- 

 gently plying the troll and catching 

 nothing. Then I lazily headed for the 

 landing, with my rod thrown careless- 

 ly in the stern of the boat. I was doz- 

 ing, perhaps, when suddenly the reel 

 gave forth a shriek of wild protest and 

 the line ran to its end. Then some 



sort of a piscatorial infernal machine 

 started for salt water 600 miles away, 

 followed by 150 feet of my best silk 

 line, my steel rod and a string ot pro- 

 fanity which for length and strength 

 made the silk line seem like a piece of 

 twine. I never saw what was fas- 

 tened to the distal end of my tackle. If 

 it was a 15-pound trout, a sea serpent 

 or some sort of a submarine electric 

 dynamo is more than I know ; but the 

 gait it took kept the steel rod to the 

 surface for a number of yards. Then 

 the rod slowly sank from view, never 

 more to gladden my eyes. 



T had the courage to go face my 

 host and apologize contritely for my 

 unjust remarks. I then beat a sub- 

 dued retreat from the scene of my dis- 

 aster. I hope my unknown adversary 

 became early disengaged from the 

 yards of tackle. I have a full fledged 

 desire to do him battle at some future 

 time. 



AMATEUR PHOTO FROM LIFE, BY CHAS. PAYNE, WICHITA, KANS. 



BOB WHITE AND FAMILY IN DOMESTICATION. 



