470 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[July 3, 1890. 



TWO AFTER TROUT. 



{.Concluded from Page USD.] 



THE next morning I was awakened by the chatter of 

 chickens and falling articles in the kitchen, and on 

 looking out through the sitting room into the kitchen 

 saw the cock of the harem with a half dozen hen wives 

 having a picnic with divers and sundry articles of diet 

 which were not on their menu. 



"Jack!" called Mrs. Jessup, "come down and put the 

 chickens out;" whereupon a rustling in the loft and 

 tramping on the stairs heralded Jack's entree, at which 

 the fowls vamosed cackling derision. 



The morning was as nearly perfect as they make them. 

 The sky was clear, a heavy frost had whitened things 

 and a skim of ice inclosed the water in the pail. After 

 breakfast, Jack took the oars and in one of Dick's fine 

 boats we started off for a troll after some of the monsters 

 of the lake. We went down the lake as far as Four-Mile 

 Bay, into which we entered by an inlet across a penin- 

 sula; and shortly after emerging a strike at my troll 

 resulted in landing a 74-pound salmon trout. This was 

 all we got for our trouble. We were now comparatively 

 near the mouth of the stream last fished the day previous, 

 and on motion it was agreed to run up as far 'as possible 

 with the boat, lunch, and try for trout, which we did. 

 A little shower fell while we were drinking tea, that in- 

 variable accompaniment of a Canadian trip; but it was 

 soon past, and we began operations. It was a beautiful 

 stream, with just enough fall to it, wooded on each side, 

 and having here and there stranded pine logs, reminders 

 of the recent drive. Taking out a trout here and there 

 alternately, and taking in solid chunks of comfort simul- 

 taneously, we slowly worked up stream, towing Jack in 

 the rear, until I saw a lovely hole just ahead, into which 

 the water poured over a slanting shelf of rock, with a 

 huge pine log stranded just above the hole and across the 

 channel. Said I, "I hereby preempt that ranch and shall 

 proceed to w T ork it for all it's worth." • 



"You can have it," said S., "and Jack and I will lie 

 down here on the bank and take a nap." 



So crawling around in the bushes, 1 reached the upper 

 side of the log without any disturbance; laid my creel 

 and bait box on the rock, disguised the hook with a fat 

 worm and gently dropped over in. Well! if I didn't en- 

 joy a season of solid satisfaction and a feast of fat things 

 for a half-hour, I hope to be disinherited. While the 

 boys below were snoozing I was cramming the minutes 

 with unalloyed bliss and my creel with trout. In and 

 out, in and out, again and again I despoiled that pool 

 until I had twenty-three handsome fellows wriggling in 

 my basket. "An even two dozen," said I, and dropped 

 in again. Another tug and out came the twenty-fourth 

 only to flip himself off just as I cleared the log with him. 

 Before I could lay hands on him he was gone, and neither 

 bait nor fly would tempt another, so waking the sleepers 

 we moved on, reaching a dam and logging camp after a 

 while, where we left the stream and by a circuitous road 

 reached the boat, after a tiresonie walk of what seemed 

 to me five miles, though it could hardly have been so far. 

 The road led through the woods all the way, and as we 

 plodded along in a drizzling rain, here and there in the 

 soft earth moose tracks appeared, telling of the recent 

 passage of the huge animal. We managed to seat our- 

 selves in the boat at last, and floated away homeward 

 with thirty-nine beautiful trout, rounding out a day full 

 of enjoyment to the last notch. Plebian fishing with a 

 low-lived worm, eh? Anything you like. No fly that I 

 had, and I had many good ones, would a trout notice, so 

 it was worms or nothing, and we voted worms unan- 

 imously. 



Rain fell that night and the next morning was windy 

 and raw, but soon after breakfast Jack and company with 

 bedding and commissary department were off for North 

 River for big trout. A fine driving rain soon set in, or 

 down, and comfort made itself scarce, but the rain ceased 

 after a while though the air was chilly. We passed a 

 large raft at the mouth of Four-Mile Bay bound for the 

 Ottawa, the pulling power being a crib or small raft 

 anchored some distance ahead of the raft, on which was 

 a sort of capstan, and by means of this the raft or collec- 

 tion of boomed logs was worked up to the crib, which 

 was then towed by a large bateau ahead again and anch- 

 ored. At the foot of Trout Lake we passed through the 

 outlet several hundred yards long into Turtle Lake, four 

 and a half miles long, a good bass water, into which I 

 put a troll and took in a couple of three-pounders for 

 supper. At the foot of Turtle is a dam or logging camp, 

 where we lunched and then made portage to the outlet 

 below called Lost River, a broad stream thickly settled 

 with boulders and quite picturesque. Some distance 

 down we came to a headland, on one side of which was 

 a rapids, the head of which was choked with logs: the 

 other side was a bay across which was a log boom. We 

 ulled the boat across the boom, and at the foot of this 

 ay, after some search by Jack, was found an old portage 

 across to the stream below the rapids. The stream is 

 called Lost because the waters at the foot of the bay flow 

 underground across to meet the other channel.' This 

 portage was a terror. Nothing but down spruces knotted 

 and jagged, and rocks of all sizes, shapes and arrange- 

 ments. I thought the boat would surely be stove in be- 

 fore we got her across, perhaps a hundred yards, but she 

 was staunch and slid along as easy as she could. 



Into the river again we slipped along down a mile or 

 two and reached a point just above the mouth of North 

 River, here a sluggish stream wide and deep, where we 

 ran ashore and made the inevitable pot of tea, after 

 which we set out up North River, trying for trout here 

 and there, but not a rise could we get in the dead water. 

 Then we took a trail that led to a dam a mile away, at 

 the foot of another long stretch of dead water, or with 

 sluggish current. Below the dam the water boiled and 

 tumbled downward a steep descent of a hundred feet or 

 more, a beautiful succession of falls and cascades, where 

 there were surely trout. J ust below the dam I took out 

 a trout or two of 10in., and then we fished along the 

 reach of water above for a mile or so, trying worm and 

 fly here and there, but to no purpose. Jack had never 

 been up further, and as it was getting along in the after- 

 noon, and we saw no prospect of any improvement in the 

 water, we reluctantly turned back, as we had no camp- 

 ing kit with us. Moose and deer tracks were numerous 



along the bank, and I wished to be there with a Win- 

 chester in the season. At the dam Jack left us and went 

 to the boat, while we staid to try the trout at the falls. 

 There were lovely holes here, deep and dark among the 

 rocks, over whose surfaces whirled meringues of foam, 

 and into which poured roaring the flashing waters from 

 above. Frequently we dropped into these holes from 

 quite a distance above, and hooking a big fellow, were 

 compelled to handle him with the utmost care. Mean- 

 while we got down somehow to where we could get him 

 into hands. We took out here nine handsome fish that 

 would make your mouth water. Then we went to the 

 boat, partook of a bite that Jack had ready, and decided 

 to return that night to the camp at foot of Turtle Lake, 

 for if we did not reach the outlet from Trout into Turtle 

 Lake before the raft reached there and broke up to get 

 through, we might be detained a day or two, and we had 

 not grub enough for that. 



Embarking, we rowed up stream, making that ragged 

 portage again with many a heave and grunt and ejacula- 

 tion, camping about sundown pretty tired. But I was 

 not so tired but that I noticed in the pool 100yds. below 

 the sluiceway at the foot of Turtle Lake a very likely 

 place for bass, and after getting the boat around I took 

 rod, and with worm for bait returned, and wading out in 

 the 6wift water just at the head of the pool, made a cast, 

 being rewarded at once by a vigorous tug. Then there 

 was sport. The bass was game and a fighter, but the 

 Henshall was equal to the emergency, even in that swift 

 water, and after a few minutes I had him where I could 

 get my hand on him, a3 I had no landing net with me, 

 taking out a three-pounder. I made tracks for my net, 

 built a pen of stones in shallow water to confine my catch, 

 and until it was pitch dark I had such sport as rarely 

 falls to the lot of the bass fisher. Then I groped my way 

 to the cabin, and we ate a full meal by the light of a 

 candle, while the smoke from the fire on the hearth in 

 the center of the cabin nearly put our eyes out; neverthe- 

 less we picked bass and trout bones tolerably clean, We 

 spread our blankets on the hay and browse in the bunks, 

 and in a jiffy floated away into the fisherman's dream- 

 land. 



By daybreak next morning I was up and after the fish 

 again, repeating the experience of the previous night 

 until called to breakfast, when I bade a reluctant good- 

 bye to the bass of Goat River. We reached the outlet 

 just in time to get in ahead of the loggers, and then 

 skirting the south shore, trolled nearly all the way home, 

 stopping once for lunch, but catching nothing, probably 

 because the wind rose and the lake was quite rough. At 

 2 P. M. we reached the landing, and as the trout fishing 

 was not what we wished in that vicinity, we concluded 

 to go to Trout Creek for a day or two and see what we 

 could see. As there was not time to send for the old man 

 and team, Jack consented to back the grips to North Bay 

 so that we might catch the evening train south. We 

 bade good-bye to the Jessups, and taking the boat as far 

 as the head of the lake, took foot the rest of the way, 

 reaching our destination in ample time for supper, and 

 at 7 P. M. , on arrival of train on the Canadian Pacific 

 road, we bade Jack good-bye and were off. I hope if any 

 of my readers go to Trout Lake they may have the good 

 fortune to have Jack McKenzie for guide, for he is com- 

 panionable, modest, gentlemanly and efficient. They 

 will find Dick Jessup and wife cordial, good-natured and 

 anxious to please any who have occasion for their 

 services. Their quarters are limited, but their hearts are 

 big. If they haven't sufficient accommodations for their 

 visitors, there is all out o' doors to camp in. 



At 8 P. M. the train slowed up at Trout Creek, a little 

 hamlet ot nine houses, and we hunted up the hotel with- 

 out any difficulty , wherein, if I am not mistaken, the table 

 is a trifle better than the bed— I might say two or three 

 trifles. Here two branches of Trout Creek unite and 

 empty into South River about two miles from the village, 

 which latter stream has the reputation of harboring large 

 trout. We found at the hotel Dr. Ellis, a professor in 

 one of the Toronto colleges, who was up here for a short 

 vacation with the trout and his camera. He confined 

 himself to the fly, but so far with poor success, as the 

 season was too early. This was Friday night and the 

 Doctor had engaged a guide to go with him the next day 

 to South River, where the guide had a boat, in which 

 they could visit one rapid above and one below the bridge, 

 as there was no good fishing in the sluggish current 

 between rapids. 



We concluded to fish down Trout Creek to its mouth, 

 as there was no other boat on the river; so early in 

 the morning we walked down the road a way and 

 then across lots to the stream at a point where a mill 

 had been burned, and there just below the dam with a 

 coachman I took a small trout. S. had the same luck. 

 I believe if we had fished with worms here we might 

 have caught a good string, but encouraged by the first 

 rise we persevered, but neither here nor below did we get 

 another rise, so after a while we substituted the wiggler, 

 taking out a fish here and there as we went down. The 

 stream here is not very good fishing water. It is too 

 sluggish. At length we came to a place where the creek 

 shot down a solid rock face at an angle of about 45°, 

 plunging into a pool "cribbed, cabined and confined" on 

 each side with hewn logs, where evidently it was intended 

 to place a mill. The water swirled and boiled here in 

 great shape, and was deep. I casually dropped in. The 

 water was some ten feet below me as I stood on the crib, 

 and the only way to save a trout when hooked was to lift 

 him clear, as the water rushing from the lower end over 

 rocks precluded the possibility of using a net, had I one 

 with me, which I hadn't. The trout took hold at once, 

 and I trusted to my lancewood, and with reason, though 

 some of the larger fish caused the rod to bend until I 

 thought it would go. Out of that hole I took fourteen 

 fine trout, and S. kept his end up gallantly, while on the 

 other crib across the way stood a native with pole, line 

 about the size of common wrapping twine, inch and a 

 half hook, and a piece of pork, and though he fished all 

 he knew how, when we finished he hadn't begun. He 

 walked down the stream to where he could cross and then 

 came up to examine our rigs. He didn't say much, but 

 walked off into the woods, I hope a wiser man. 



We fished along down and pretty soon came to the head 

 of a long hole, into which flowed the stream with swift 

 cm-rent and not much fall. I cast into the current and 

 unreeled, allowing the bait to float as far as it would 

 without sinking much. I repeated this several times, 

 and was about to give it up, when something vigorously 

 struck and I realized that I had work cut out for roe. 



The trout fought like a little tiger and gave me all I 

 wanted to do in that swift water for a spell, but he began 

 to weaken ere long, and I led him to the calmer water at 

 the side of the pool and lifted him out with my hand, a 

 14-inch darling, and the largest so far. But he was the 

 only one we could interest there; so, as we were getting 

 down into more level country, we left the creek and seek- 

 ing the road walked down to the bridge and cooled off in 

 the shade, for the day was warm. As we were resting 

 here, the Doctor and guide in his Peterborough canoe 

 came paddling down stream on their way to the lower 

 rapids, having had but moderate success at the upper. 

 Flies were not the thing. The guide said that if they had 

 had minnows they could have taken all the large fish 

 they wished, as this was the bait for this season. They 

 went on down to the rapids, but caught only one pound 

 and a half trout, and that with a piece of chub for bait. 

 When they returned, as the Doctor intended to leave for 

 home the following evening and had hardly enough fish 

 for a good showing, we turned over to him our largest, 

 which made a good string. We walked back to the hotel 

 together, and S. and I made arrangements with the guide 

 to go down to the lower rapids, or both, on Monday with 

 minnows and see what we could do; but on Sunday a suc- 

 cession of terrific thunder storms so muddied the water 

 that Aiming was out of the question. 



The Doctor had fished the south branch of Trout Lake 

 before we arrived with not very gratifying success, so as 

 there were good reports of the north branch, though trout 

 were not large, we concluded to try it on Monday, our 

 last day out. On Sunday morning after a very leisurely 

 and satisfactory breakfast, we lit pipes and strolled over 

 to the woods, from which the creek issued on its way 

 from the hills, on a tour of discovery. We found a good- 

 sized stream with plenty of action and holes that fairly 

 smelled of trout. We were satisfied after a half-mile 

 tramp that it would pay to work this stream, and saun- 

 tered back to the hotel. Black flies had not put in a 

 numerous appearance thus far, nor had mosquitoes been 

 annoying, but it was about time for them tohegin to get 

 in their bloody work, so we provided ourselves with a 

 little oil of tar with an odor of oil of pennyroyal sprinkled 

 with a few drops of carbolic acid, which proved very 

 effective, as the following day the flies seemed suddenly 

 to have boiled out of the ground. The remainder of 

 Sunday was exceedingly slow. Cat naps, with periodical 

 visits to the dining room and considerable burning of the 

 noxious weed, together with perusal of old Canadian 

 papers, occupied the time, and we were very glad when 

 bedtime came. Monday morning was on hand punctu- 

 ally as usual, and gave us delight, for it was fresh and 

 clear, a lovely trouting day for us, whatever it might 

 have been for those who must have clouds for fishing. 

 We were on deck betimes, and after a satisfactory break- 

 fast took rods, creels, two or three worms, the last of the 

 lot, and with big expectations and a good deal of esprit 

 de corps and such things, not forgetting lunch, in a few 

 moments put our rods together in the edge of the woods, 

 and were ready. Smith and I, two as happy fishermen as 

 ever smoked the same pipe, whipped the same stream, or 

 slept under the same blanket. 



It was a royal morning, as I remarked. I soon had my 

 first trout dangling by the nose, and S. followed suit, and. 

 the fun had begun. The worms soon gave out, and flies 

 were tried but to no purpose, so we resorted to one of the 

 best baits in the repertoire of the trouter, viz., the belly 

 fin of a trout, and thenceforward confined ourselves to this 

 with entire success. Allow me to state once more to make 

 myself understood, that it was a neplus ultra, e pht ribus 

 unum, royal Tyrian purple sort of a day, one that is out- 

 lined against the background of other days like an arc 

 light against the vault of heaven at midnight. I don't 

 want to be wearisome with reiterating, you understand, 

 but to emphsize the fact that you can't begin to appreci- 

 ate what a fine day it was. The weather was delightful, 

 j ust cool enough to be perfectly comfortable in the woods. 

 The grand old forest was all around us, and through the 

 waving branches the sunlight danced and flickered, evok- 

 ing answering sparkles from the limpid water hastening 

 downward between brown boulders and under mossy logs, 

 where in the crystalline depths, under shelving rock or 

 overhanging bank, the coy beauties lurked for their prey. 

 Domestic sights and sounds banished. None to molest or 

 annoy. No noise to disturb the delicious solitude or mar 

 the soothing melody of the purling stream. Anything 

 more delightful than this? If any of my readers vainly 

 imagines that he can think of anything more suggestive 

 of earthly bliss let him never show his ignorance. He 

 can't do it. That settles it. 



Onward and upward (like Excelsior) we went, crossing 

 the stream occasionally on handy log or stepping stones, 

 taking out the anxious trout at short intervals, and throw- 

 ing many back, lingering here and there at likely pools 

 where a large fellow was suspicious and needed coaxing 

 — until our creels were full. Then we stopped, stringing 

 the fish, secured them in the water in the shade with a 

 branch over them, and after a bite and pipe resumed our 

 way, repeating the programme again and again, until 

 the westering sun reminded us that if we took the train 

 southward that night we must be getting homeward, 6o 

 putting our backs to the headwaters we fished back again, 

 calling on divers trout that weren't in when we called 

 before, and reaching the edge of the woods at three 

 o'clock, having picked up our strings as we came along, 

 and now cleaning them in the swift running water. I 

 want to remark that it was a very pretty collection of a 

 good many over a hundred six to ten-inch trout that we 

 carried to the hotel, also that it was a fine day. We got 

 a box, and some fine dry cornmealand salt, put in a layer 

 of meal, then a layer of trout salted inside, then meal 

 and trout alternately and put the lid on eighty of the 

 largest, giving the rest to the landlord, who kindly al- 

 lowed us to sample some for supper. 



At 9:30 the train from North Bay slowed up for us and 

 in the sleeper we trundled along toward Toronto, which 

 we reached at sometime before breakfast in the morning. 

 Here the station baggage man very kindly hunted up a 

 basket for us as the box was unwieldy, and repacking the 

 fish we took train for Buffalo, arriving home the same 

 day with the fish in the finest possible condition, in which 

 they remained until disposed of. The Grand Trunk 

 officials everywhere were as good natured and obliging as 

 they could be, for which I again tender them hearty 

 thanks. So ended a red-letter week, an outing overflow- 

 ing with enjoyment. May I and all my sportsmen friends 

 be there or elsewhere |n just, such shape, when the 

 fates are propitious. O. O. S. 



