Feb. 13, 1890.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



67 



I capitulated and for a while let his horns severely 

 alone, and never again reverted to poetry as an instruc- 

 tion to fly-tying. About 4 o'clock in the evening we left 

 camp for the anticipated sport, and had gone but a few 

 rods when we came across a couple of large boulders, 

 which reared their rounded heads above the water, at the 

 base of which we were confident the azure trout were 

 poised for prey. Ned and I both made a cast at the same 

 time, and much to my surprise his horny creation enticed 

 a trout that made the water boil as he pounced up it. 

 The watchful angler struck in good time, and then the 

 sport was on. After some fierce fighting and skillful 

 handling of rod and reel, the 8. fontinalis struck his 

 colors and came to net. He was a little over two pounds, 

 in perfect form, and very handsomely mottled. 



"First blood and first knockdown for the horny-headed 

 ibis," welled out from the highly pleased proprietor of 

 the angler's junk bag. I kept on casting while he was 

 handling the trout, but "nary" rise did I obtain. 



"What do you think of my horny fly now?" says Ned, 

 after he was ready for another oftst. 



"What I always did," 



"What's that?" 



•A diabolical monstrosity " 



'AH right. It attracts the trout all t"hesame,and don't 

 you forget it," 



I was too eager for a trout to keep up the verbal sharp- 

 shooting, and allowed Ned the last shot, though I had a 

 load or two in reserve to riddle him when the proper time 

 came. 



We now proceeded to the point just ahead, and when 

 we arrived Ned sent his flies with unerring accuracy to 

 the center of a dark line of water, indicating a deep fis- 

 sure below, and woke up a trout that made a terrific 

 splash as he sought the horns of the blood red fly. 



'How do you like the horns now?" exclaimed the de- 

 lighted angler. 



"Same as ever. Please pass the flask." 



"T mean the horny fly." 



"And I mean the liquid fly.'" 



At this sally the boatmen laughed, and Ned again 

 busied himself in killing his trout. It was larger than 

 the last, and when landed and swung from the scales 

 registered just 3lbs. 



I was getting a little nettled at my want of success, 

 for so far I had not succeeded in getting a single rise. I 

 had not lost faith in my flies, they being a silver-doctor 

 for the "point" and a brown-hackle for the dropper, and 

 kept on very industriously circling them into every 

 tempting spot that I thought contained the quarry. At 

 last my patience was rewarded, for p^eweled beauty rose 

 and struck at the dropper and was so securely hung to 

 that flashing doctor that it led to his untimely death. 

 Ned opened his eyes at my good fortune and began to 

 think there were other flies that captured, aside from his 

 horny-headed bunch of flaming feathers. It was not long 

 before I had another rise, but missed, and shortly after 

 another tried conclusions with me by taking the dropper 

 again, and he also paid the forfeit of his rashness, for he, 

 too, after about five minutes of delightful play capitu- 

 lated and entered the net. These two fish weighed re- 

 spectively 21 and 31bs., and were a fair match for Ned's 

 triumphs. 



"What's the matter with your horns now, Ned?" 

 "I'm after big trout." 



And away went his horns with a savage cast that hit 

 the water like a dead humming bird near the edge of 

 some ragged rocks just off the shore. As I heard the fall 

 of the horns I cried : 



"Please don't hit the rock." 



"Why?" 



"You might fracture it." 



Another laugh at Ned's expense, in which the good- 

 humored soul joined. Ned finally pegged out in casting 

 and handed his rod to Joe that he "might exercise his skill, 

 while he rested and indulged in a smoke. Joe could make 

 a graceful cast and quiver his fly deftly, but he never 

 seemed to strike sufficiently quick at the break of trout, 

 for he missed many a fine rise. In a few minutes he had 

 a rise and missed, and also the second dash of the greedy 

 trout, but on the third he hung the lovely darling, and 

 after it was secured, it being a 2*-pounder, we concluded 

 we had all the fish we desired or could use for that day, 

 and therefore headed for the camp with the bright even- 

 ing sunshine mellowing the entire landscape of foliaged 

 wood, rippling water and rocky shore. 



We were soon at camp, and in a little while supper was 

 announced, to which we always brought a bushwhack- 

 er's appetite. The vesperian meal being finished, we took 

 our camp-stools to some attractive spot and there fought 

 our battles of the day o'er again. Then we would sit in 

 dreamy reverie and watch the creeping cool night close 

 in, and the camp-fire shine out o'er shelving crags and 

 shattered rocks, and the moon as it hung low and golden 

 in the archway studded with glittering stars, while the 

 weird shadows from the leafy sentinels spread o'er the 

 translucent waters. Ned would look 1 with adimiring eyes 

 on such scenes and grow exceedingly eloquent over them. 

 Then again he would wake the silent forests and the 

 breathing waters with his musical echoes, and tiring of 

 that would seek the tent which was redolent with the 

 perfumes of the fir and balsam and court " tired nature's 

 sweet restorer, balmy sleep," and perhaps dream of 

 Tullamore or the capture of speckled beauties. 



That night while in slumber deep we were awakened 

 by a temfic storm, which impressively reminded me that 

 " The winds grow high. 

 Impending tempests charge the sky. 

 The lightning flies, the thunder roars. 

 And big waves lash the frighted shores." 



The storm continued its impetuous rage for two hours 

 and then it gently moaned itself away. 



On tha next morning when we arose, we were greeted 

 with a crimson sky on which floated a few clouds lighter 

 than gauze, and soon the west wind rose and blew the 

 fragrance of the balsam from the forest deep, till our 

 eyes sparkled with healthful exhilaration. - 



Another outing* of course was to take place immedi- 

 ately after breakfast, and so Ned and I at once got ready 

 in order to prevent delay. The repast over and the dishes 

 washed and put away, we started down the same shore 

 line as on yesterday, with a gentle wind and bright sun- 

 shine playing o ! er the curling waves. Nearing the huge 

 boulders, where Ned the day before inaugurated his pet 

 creation of horns we began casting. Ned again carried 

 off the first trophy, as a scarlet-hued trout, who thought 

 he knew "every trick that is taught in their school," 



vaulted with open mouth aud gobbled the fly of horny 

 headwork and long red tail. "He was so suddenly sick 

 of his hasty action, that he leaped and danced with such 

 frantic efforts, that it was really pleasing when the en- 

 tertainment was ended by the graceful sweep of the 

 landing net, which laid him to earthly rest. Ned was in 

 high feather again with his subtle architecture of the 

 successful fly, and declared it "a thing of beauty and a 

 joy forever." After proceeding a short distance the 

 wind increased and the water began to get quite "lumpy." 

 The trout rise much better in such a sea and a long cast 

 is then not an absolute necessity. That morning and 

 afternoon we caught seven trout, two of which weighed 

 41bs. The two latter made the reel produce that harmo- 

 nious sound which is always a delight, and in addition 

 gave all the excitement of play and intense suspense that 

 any true angler could desire. One of these fell a victim 

 to Ned's rapacity, while the other came to me in a pains- 

 taking sort of a way. I hope I am lucid enough in this 

 assertion, though I make it without disguised aspersion 

 as to Ned's method, or his novel lure of elephantine size. 



The wind and waves, as the shadows lengthened with 

 the growing hours, increased to such a degree, that of a 

 necessity we sought the hay as a harbor aud the camp as 

 a solace. One may be lost to the golden beauties of a 

 butterfly in the noonday sun as he flutters along the 

 shores of these pellucid waters, and at sunset of the 

 same day gaze with admiring awe at the tempest-tossed 

 waters, as they are lashed into seething foam. 



Matters w r ere now getting along delightfully in camp. 

 Our boatmen, who were in perfect accord with us, were 

 also enjoying themselves in then - idle hours with the ex- 

 citement of card playing. They kept up these games in 

 their tent till late in the night, and long after we had re- 

 tired I could hear their hearty laughter, as one or the 

 other scored their points in euchre, that being their only 

 game. They seldom failed to have the inevitable tea- 

 pot close at hand, as they have as much love for that ex- 

 hilarating beverage as a Russian. 



Joe told me that he always fished along here in the 

 month of June and was eminently successful. He had 

 received twenty dollars for the trout he had caught this 

 season. His market was the "Soo," and the price fifteen 

 cents per pound. Not only he, but others, at Goulais 

 and Bachewautning bays, carried on that kind of fish- 

 ing every year. When it was not convenient to go to 

 the "Soo" for a market they would dispose of their trout 

 to the fishing tugs that are plying to and fro the entire 

 season. This is contrary to law. hut; neither the Indians 

 nor the proprietors of the fishing boats pay the least at- 

 tention to it. They place the thumb of the right hand on 

 their nose and wag and wag, and say catch me if you 

 can. I heard that Booth, of Chicago, who is the great 

 purveyor in that liue, was made to suffer to the amount 

 of an even hundred dollars for violation of this law, and 

 yet the illegal traffic still continues. Who will stop it, 

 aud thus receive the thanks of the genuine sportsman? 

 The fable of the hen that laid the golden egg will soon 

 prove a reality, 



Trouting is always better here in June than at any 

 other time, but the (lies and mosquitoes are so thick then 

 that you can write your name in the cloudy hosts that 

 surround you. We had figured this way, and as a conse- 

 quence were not annoyed with either of them. We saw 

 a party that had returned from a trouting trip to the 

 North Shore before we left the "Soo" and they declared 

 that they had been flayed alive by the insect pests that 

 make life here a perfect misery. As a dernier resort to 

 escape their needle-like lances they sought refuge in 

 anchored boats, thus placing themselves at the peril of 

 sudden storms. They caught plenty of trout, but said 

 under such circumstances the quarry was faf from being 

 an equivalent for their sufferings. They will not try the 

 experiment of early spring fishing on the North Shore 

 again, as they declared they had had enough of it, and 

 will hereafter take the late season, when the "bloody 

 insects" have about disappeared. 



The reef nearly opposite our camp, and about midway 

 in the bay, was to be the point of attack next morning, 

 weather permitting, of course. 



The morn opened gorgeously, with the heavens swathed 

 in a robe of purple and gold, and "with breath all incense 

 and cheek all bloom." The breakfast, which was highly 

 relished, was quickly dispatched: and just as soon as Joe 

 announced that the kitchen service was over we all hur- 

 riedly tumbled into the boat and started for the rocky lair 

 of the trout beautiful. The two bald-headed boulders, 

 where Ned had caught his lusty trout with his great crea- 

 tion of fur, feathers and tinsel, were brightly flashing in 

 the morning sun, and, as they were in the line of our 

 route, determined to see if we could not coax another 

 dotted beauty from his aqueous realm. When within 

 casting distance, I sent my feathery lures to the very edge 

 of the projecting granite, secured a good rise and failed 

 to hang the striking trout. Joe, the prophetic half breed, 

 on my dismal failure, said it was bad luck to miss the 

 first fish . For once he was gratified in having his pre- 

 diction verified, as you will realize ere the day's sport is 

 over. 



Ned, on seeing my flies return without a fin, sent his 

 red-horned lure in the same place; but instead of that 

 proving a choice tidbit for the disappointed trout — pre- 

 suming it to be the same I had missed — he took the 

 dropper and was conquered in a few minutes, being only 

 a pounder. It was enough, however, to set Ned's jaws 

 going, -who at once commenced a dissertation on the art 

 of fly-fishing, all intended, I well knew, for my especial 

 discomfiture. He is devilish sly, and plays his sallies of 

 humor with the bland innocence of a child. I was con- 

 tent to await my opportunity for satisfaction . The bould- 

 ers producing no more of the radiant beauties, we took a 

 straight line for the reef, about a half mile distant. 

 Among these the whipping of the waters commenced in 

 deep earnest. Ned was on his mettle and so was I, and 

 every square inch of the reef was, consequently, carefully 

 fished between us. I finally got a rise, struck and missed,, 

 and Joe, the diabolical imp, grinned at my failure as if 

 he were delighted; he wanted no break in his prophecy. 

 Shortly after this failure of mine, Ned aroused one of the 

 crimson-tinted from a line of dark water, and succeeded 

 in sending the hook home, and after some fierce fighting 

 hail his finny captiye glittering in the sun at the bottom 

 of the boat. ' At this triumph Ned sang: 



"Mark the angler's watchful eye, 



Mark the prudent, well-formed fly. 



Trembling here and there about, 



"Tis to catch the speckled trout." 



"'That song is not consistent." 

 "Why not?" 



"You say mark 'the prudeut, well-formed fly.'" 

 "Oh ! I see, you have reference to my hor " 

 "Exactly." 



"I'll omit that part hereafter." 

 "Thanks." 



A minute or two after this my fly, from an awkward 

 cast, caught in Joe's pants and away went my tip close 

 to the ferrule. At this accident Joe's grin perceptively 

 broadened; his prophecy still holding good. I was get- 

 ting somewhat down in the mouth at my repeated mis- 

 fortunes, but hoped ere sunset to make that grinning 

 half-breed's prophecy a grand failure. I soon had an- 

 other tip in place and commenced work more industri- 

 ously than ever. At this juncture a joyous shout came 

 from Ned, who declared he had hung a speckled monster. 

 All eyes were now attracted to the lucky angler and 

 advice without end fell upon his ear. The trout was 

 very carefully handled, the game being nip and tuck 

 between the angler above and the fish below. Ned was 

 a complete master of all the subtle tactics that lead to 

 killing, and met every rush of the desperate trout with 

 skill and perfect imperturbability. One minute the trout 

 would rush with lightning speed for distant waters, and 

 when carefully checked turn and swiftly circle around, 

 and then of a sudden dart down for the deeps and again 

 flash to the surface. He soon tired of this kind of circus 

 and began to flag in his frantic efforts, and, as a conse- 

 quence, became more wary in his struggles, Like the 

 tox, he here covered bis tracks, and then shot undei' the 

 boat, but with a sweep of the pole around the stern and 

 rapid reel work, the battling angler made his victim pant 

 as the taut line turned him to the foe above his realm. 

 Ned had him now at a disadvantage and about conquered, 

 it only requiring due caution to prevent his striking his 

 broad tail against the leader, a trick that often deceives 

 an o'er sanguine angler and frequently liberates an almost 

 captured fish. We could now plainly see his size, and it 

 was immense indeed, as be had come in a distressed con- 

 dition to the surface, and flapped every now and then 

 until he was securely netted. He weighed over 61bs, , and 

 was as handsomely mottled and painted in rainbow dyes 

 as any Salvelinus fontinalis I ever saw. 



After the murmur of excitement over Ned's remark- 

 able capture had subsided, I again tried to coax one of 

 the beautifully spangled trout to spring from his rocky lair 

 for one of my attractive flies, which I thought I suc- 

 ceeded in placing on the water with the lightness of a 

 gently falling snowflako. The In re proved a success, for 

 on the third cast a savage swirl encircled my dropper; ] 

 struck in time, and a desperat e rush of the impaled fish 

 was made as perpendicular as a plummet falls, and, in 

 an endeavor to keep him from dashing under the boat, the 

 lure suddenly parted and came to the surf ace minus flies 

 and leader. I was drowned in deep despair at this dire 

 calamity, and the gleeful looks of the prophetic savage 

 which greeted me as I turned to Ned for consolation, 

 made me speechless with fury. A sudden reflection of 

 my folly calmed me, and without perceptible emotion 1 

 suggested to Ned that as we had glory and trouting enough 

 for the morning, aud as I was in the covsomme, we had 

 better head for camp, and that I would try ere sunset to 

 see if could not shake off the spell of " the Old Man of 

 the Sea" that was tarnishing my record so badly. Npd, 

 like Barkis, was willing, and, reeling up, placed his 

 rod to one side, and then picking up the heavy weight 

 which he kept in repose at his feet that he might feast his 

 eyes on its graceful outlines and lovely colors, remarked 

 that it was a poem of beauty that ought to be set in a 

 frame of gold, ruby aud sapphire, and then clearing his 

 throat warbled to the air '■ Awa to the Bonnie Tweed 

 Side:" 



" There ne'er was aught in nature seen 



Whose color could outvie 

 The glitter o' its side sae green. 



Bathed in the rainbow's dye. 

 The olive back, the gowden flu. 



The belly's silver hue, 

 A' spread upon a pinkie skin. 



That scarcely blushes through. 



" The mottled drops that mantle far 



Out owre his spangled scale, 

 Aglist'nin' like the gorgeous star 



That gem's the peacock's tail. 

 A fishing day by dam or weir 



Could aye my feelings bind, 

 And muckle in't there is to cheer 



A nature-loving mind." 



Joe, the tawny wretch, said with a sardonic smile as I 

 stepped out of the boat as she struck the rock-bound 

 shore : 



"I tell you that you catch no fish to-day." 

 I could have choked him for his superstitious prophecy, 

 which seemed to hang over me so fatally, but instead of 

 turning garroter I smiled sweetly and replied that: 



"No one but an idiot or an Indian ever believed sueh 

 nonsense." 

 "You believe me after while." 

 "Humbug, Joe, humbug; mere baby talk," 

 "Well, we see this afternoon." 

 "If I catch no fish I eat no supper." 

 "You go to bed without supper, then." 

 "All right." 



And so the conversation between the dark prophet and 

 the pale-faced unbeliever ceased. After putting away 

 our tackle and laving in the cooling waters I challenged 

 Ned for a rubber of crib and lost three straight games — 

 hoodooed evidently. I felt like hedging on the prophetic 

 side, but detei mined to die game and ascertain if I could 

 not break the run of bad luck, which had so strongly set 

 against me, in the afternoon outing by another raid on 

 the enameled beauties. 



After dinner was served, Ned brought out his angler's 

 junk sack and emptied its contents upon the table, and 

 declared his intention of "building" another fly, so well 

 satisfied was he with his first success, the vermilion 

 beauty of the projecting points and glass eyes. He con- 

 templated a slight change in the forthcoming lure, and 

 one he was confident that would materially aid him in 

 transferring the trout to a purer medium. His "ould 

 country" ideas, where the purling brooks were the only 

 waters he ever angled or poached in, were still dominant. 

 He always swore by the old masters of the gentle art, 

 and to them was ever faithful, and was, therefore, bar- 

 nacled with the superstitions and «onyentionalities which 



