112 FOREST AND STREAM. iAug. il i892. 



CAMPS OF THE KINGFISHERS.-IX. 

 CARP LAKE. MICHIGAN, 



The Carp Lake Camp. 



In the morning Sam and I got ready for a trip to Mc- 

 Conners Lake for trout. It was a stream about three 

 miles below the camp on the opposite side of the lake, 

 comparatively easy to fish, and was usually fairly stocked 

 with average-sized trout with an occasional good one or 

 two to keep the "expectancy'" up to the proper pilch. 

 We had taken a good string out of it the years before in 

 two or three hours' fishing and it was worth the pull 

 down and back if we could^do it over again, and besides 

 there was always a bass or two to be picked up in Hor- 

 ton's Bay into which it flowed through a cedar swamp, a 

 feature of nearly all the little streams feeding Carp Lake, 

 only two or three of them being visible from a passing 

 boat. When near the mouth of the stream we left the 

 boat — one of the wooden ones, as old Sam could not be 

 coaxed into the ironclad again — at the old log yard near 

 where Ben Renshaw and I cut the poles for the dining fly 

 in 1884, and followed a path out to the road which led us 

 to the stream a short distance above where it was siDanned 

 by a rude log bridge. Here the little stream, at no place 

 wider than an active youngster could jump across, made 

 four or five sharp elbows in as many rods, at each one of 

 which the water had scooped out a deep place. We tied 

 on a barnyard hackle and Sam dropped his in at an elbow 

 right against the steep bank above the bridge, and before 

 I had time to note how it was done he swung an 8in. trout 

 out on the grass with, "Jeems Mackerel, get on to that 

 feller will ye?" 



A rod above where he was fishing was the lower end of 

 another pool, fringed on the side I was on with a growth 

 of low bushes that hid the water from view along the 

 foot-high bank over which they hung. 



I reached the point of the rod over these and dropped 

 the baited hook in the water close up to the bank, when 

 the tip was suddenly jerked down and the next instant a 

 bewildered trout nearly as large as Sam's was swung 

 quietly out over the bushes with many twists and contor- 

 tions and landed on the grass near where the other one 

 was flopping and turning flip-flaps in his eft'orts to find 

 the water again. Sam got another a minute after which 

 appeared to exhaust his pool, for with the most careful 

 fishing he got no more out of it. Meantime I had poked 

 the rod over the bushes again and lifted out another a 

 little larger than my first one, and the performance was 

 repeated till I had taken out eight, each one a trifle larger 

 than the one preceding, the last one an llin. fellow most 

 gorgeously colored. Then I took time to put them on a 

 stringer and tie them in the water at the pool where Sam 

 had left, and just then I was feeling mighty well satis- 

 fied with myself and the world at large. 



Sam had crossed the bridge and was fishing from the 

 top of a bank 8 or 9ft. high below it, when after a few 

 minutes he shouted over, "Jeems, did you ever see the 

 like o' that?" and looking over, there was a big trout 

 dangling in mid-air half the height of the bank, the line 

 tangled and caught in an overhanging bush and Sam 

 helpless to release it without taking a tumble into the 

 pool below him. 



The trout kept curling up and twisting and doubling 

 himself into all manner of shapes till at last the hook tore 

 out and he dropped into the water, leaving Sam peering 

 over the bank at the place where he disappeared, with 

 his chin hanging down to about the point it did after the 

 third days' fishing at Green Lake. 



After a long and earnest look into the water he straight- 

 ened up with "Well, ef that wasn't the beatinest flyin' 

 trapeze performance I ever see in my born days," and 

 giving the line a jerk, broke it short olf at the bush and 

 then made his way around across the bridge where he sat 

 down on a log and tied on another hook with as much 

 unconcern as though he had not just passed through a 

 very temper-trying "episode." 



The trout in my pool had quit biting at No. 8, and 

 while Sam was tying on his hook I stepped cautiously up 

 to the bank and looked over the low bushes to see what 

 sort of looking water I had been taking them out of. It 

 was not over a foot deep,- but a yard or so further up it 

 was much deeper and I dropped the hook up stream as 

 far as I could for an overhanging bush that reached 

 nearly across to the further bank. 



As the bait touched the water a trout that looked fully 

 18in. long flashed from under the bank and dashed at the 

 squirming worm, but he must have seen me as I leaned 

 over the bushes, for when he got within a few inches of 

 the hook he doubled back so suddenly that I fancied he 

 must have sprained his backbone, and was out of sight 

 under the bank before I could catch my breath. 



"Great Scott, Sam, there's a trout as long as your leg," 

 but Sam only laughed and said, "Got 'em agin, Jeems, 

 another one o' yer fish lies," and baiting his newly tied 

 on hook he crossed the road to another kink in the stream 

 below and disappeared silently in the tangle along the 

 bank and I saw no more of him for an hour or more when 

 we met at the boat, 



I made three or four more nervous casts, with my heart 

 badly out of time, but the big trout would not come out 

 again from his retreat under the bank. 



I went to the stringer, killed one of the brightest-col- 

 ored trout and cut off the anal fin and one of the ventral 

 fins, the latter of which I put on the hook first; the anal 

 was then put on in such a shape that it forced the ventral 

 fin up the shank of the hook, which would make the bait 

 whirl in the water like a trolling spoon when drawn 

 along or acted on by the current. Then I slipped care- 

 fully around the bushes up to the abrupt bend in the 

 stream where I could see the whole length of the pool, 

 which was fifteen or twenty feet long. The water run- 

 ning squarely against the bank had scooped out a hole 

 under it that looked to be three feet deep, but I couldn't 

 tell how far back under the shell of earth that was upheld 

 by a mass of roots belonging to the bushes along and 

 overhanging the water. 



I pulled six or eight feet of line from the reel and 

 dropped the double-geared fin in the water at the foot of 

 a little sandbar, and let the current suck it out of sight 

 under the bank and then gave it a pull to make it spin. 



Instantly the point of the rod was yanked down, and for 

 a moment there was a fierce tussle and I thought I had 

 him sure; but, alas! the hook tore out and before it came 

 in sight from under the bank it caught or doubled around 

 an unseen root, and my heart slumped down into my left 

 shoe, so to speak, and I felt that the game was over for 

 that day at least. 



I tried for ten minutes all the ways I could think of 

 except diving under the bank to loosen that cussed hook, 

 but it obstinately held its grip on the root, and at last, 

 giving a strong pull, the line broke and a yard or more of 

 it Went with the current out of sight under the bank, and 

 I stood there staring vacantly in the water, fairly beaten 

 and unable to do the case justice from a profane stand- 

 IJOint; so I said not a word, as old Sam was not there to 

 "approve the perceedin's." 



It was no use to bother with that trout any more that 

 day, and I tied on another hook and took my way up the 

 stream to some other holes that I knew of, hoping to 

 forget my disappointment in a fight or two with smaller 

 fry. 



This episode was worse than being hustled out of the 

 field by the "ole black bull." 



I fished along up the creek for two or three hundred 

 yards, caught four or five more trout big enough to keep 

 and string on a forked twig, got discouraged and flayed 

 by mosquitoes and went back. 



When I got to the big trout pool I looked into it and 

 passed around the clnmp of bushes without dropping in 

 the bait— it would not have been "trout sense" to do it— 

 but I formulated some design for another day. 



There is more satisfaction to the angler in being out- 

 generaled and beaten by the big trout of the pool than 

 there is in fooling all the others of his lesser mates, for 

 he knows he is still there and it puts him on his mettle 

 to devise more cunning ways and means to circumvent 

 him, 



I took the string of trout I had tied in the water and 

 left the stream with a determination to return, after 

 giving the big fellow a rest of a day or two to doctor up 

 his jaw and get over his scare, and slip up on him from 

 the upper end of the pool and let the current suck under 

 the bank to him a morsel that would make his mouth 

 water to look at — something that he had not tasted nor 

 seen since he left the lake to hunt up a summer loafing 

 place some weeks before. 



When I got back to the boat old Sam was still some- 

 where on the stream, but a few lusty yells brought a re- 

 sponse from him, and after awhile he came poking out 

 of the "bresh" with a respectable string of fair-sized 

 trout, which, with what I had, made us feel easy about 

 a good trout supper, and may be enough left for a taste 

 for' breakfast. 



We pulled slowly along back to camp, trying the bass 

 occasionally at likely looking places without much suc- 

 cess, however, as the lake was too rough to pay much at- 

 tention to fishing, and when supper was ready in the 

 evening the llin, trout somehow found his way, crisp 

 and brown, to the Colonel's plate at the head of the table, 

 and the expression of ' 'pure delight" that overspread his 

 sunbrowned countenance "a leetle more'n balanced the 

 disappointin' episode with the big trout, " as old Sam 

 said, and the loss of his "flyin' trapeze performer" at the 

 high bank below the bridge. 



The others had not done much fishing during the day 

 on account of the wind. 



They had taken a few in the morning off the birch point, 

 but the seas got bo high the anchors would not hold, ana 

 they had been lying around camp in the shade of the oaks 

 taking life easy, 



I got small comfort out of my ISin, trout story, one 

 making it out a big sucker that had strayed up from the 

 lake, where the creek was high; another said it might 

 have been a dogfish or a pickerel, and old Sam, with a 

 wink at Kelpie, "reckoned it was a snappin' turkle," but 

 they all agreed that they would not bother the pool when 

 down that way, as they considered I had a preemption 

 claim on the big trout, dogfish, or mud turtle, as the case 

 might be, and might have it out with him whenever the 

 spirit moved me, I gave him a day's rest and then the 

 spirit prodded me sharply and headed me in the direction 

 of McConnel's Creek soon after breakfast, alone in the 

 ironclad, for Sam and Charley, Kelpie and the Colonel, 

 and the Professor and Johnny had paired off and laid 

 out a day's campaign in such a way that it left me to 

 tackle the big trout in his fastness single-handed. 



I stopped at another old log yard a few hundred yards 

 above the mouth of the stream, caught a few small 

 shiners with hook and line, secured the boat .so as the 

 waves would not beat a hole in her against the bottom 

 before I got back, and took my way out to the road and 

 down to the creek of many elbows, full of stratagems and 

 schemes to secure the scalp of the warrior of the bridge — 

 and anticipation; without which there is no real pleasure 

 in going a-fishing. 



The minnows were still lively in the bucket when I 

 reached the stream, and hooking one on, I slipped quietly 

 around the clump of bushes to the head of the pool and 

 dropped it in where the current would suck^t under the 

 bank. 



It was hardly out of sight when I felt a slight jerk on 

 the line, and then I waited an hour — maybe it was not 

 half a minute — with my heart in my mouth, for him to 

 swallow the minnow, but when I gave the rod a twitch, 

 to fasten the hook, it came back bare. T had pulled too 

 soon and scored a backset in the first inning. 



I made a detour arouud the bushes, got another shiner 

 from the bucket and hooked it on, boiling over with 

 eagerness, but with nerves as steady as a rock. The 

 second attack resulted exactly as the first; the hook came 

 back without the minnow, t was too eager and had mis- 

 calculated the time. I quietly got another minnow, and 

 this time resolved to be possessed of a little more patience. 



When the minnow drifted under the bank, another 

 slight twitch of the line denoted that the old fellow was 

 still there and thankful, doubtless, for the school of 

 shiners that was coming his way, 



I waited till I was quite sure he had ample time to 

 swallow two minnows, and when I pulled the hook struck 

 something and the next moment a trout of not a finger's 

 breadth over 9in. was flopping and twisting and thrash- 

 ing the water at the foot of the little sand bar, with the 

 line reeled up too short to give him a chance to get under 

 the roots again. 



I stood looking at him, disappointed and amazed at the 

 shrinkage that had taken place in that trout since a 

 couple of days before. 



I was reminded of old Knots's story of the darky and 

 his catfish — "Golly, how datfish am shwimk" — and found 

 myself chuckling silently over the remembrance of the 

 good old times in some of the old camps. 



The shrunken trout kept up the racket near the sand 

 bar, when suddenly a streak of color shot out from under 

 the overhanging grass on the opposite side of the stream, 

 from under a low bank where the water was not more 

 than Sin. deep, and flashed out of sight under the bank 

 from where I had just pulled the 9in, fellow. 



Great Caesar's bones! it was the big trout, who had been 

 hidden under the grassy bank "a lay in' for grasshoppers," 

 and the struggles of his mate had scared him and moved 

 him to hustle across to his retreat under the bush, lined 

 bank. 



Here was another backset of large proportions, for I 

 knew it would be next to wasting time to fish for him 

 any more till he got over his fright, and there was no 

 telling how long that would be. 



I lifted the now exhausted 9-incher out, released the 

 hook and carried him around and chucked him in the 

 bucket with the minnows, sunk it in the water near the 

 bridge and then sat down on a log to reflect and study 

 the situation over a while. 



At the end of a half hour's vigorous "chawin' of ter- 

 backer" to help solve the problem, I hooked on another 

 minnow and went around to the head of the pool and 

 cast in, but after a minute or two of waiting it was plain 

 he had not forgotten the queer antics and disappearance 

 of his mate. 



I let the minnow drift under the bank a dozen times or 

 more and drew it out slowly, and with sundry alluring 

 flirts and twitches, but it was no avail; he had suspicions 

 around and would not be allured, 



I got another minnow, the last live one in the bucket, 

 and run the hook under the skin just in front of the 

 dorsal fin which would give it the appearance of being 

 disabled when in the water, having in mind the fool 

 theory of an "eminent authority on bass," that a bass— 

 and why not a trout as well? — will not take a minnow 

 unless it seems to be crippled in some way, but even this 

 "loony" idea would not work in practice, and I gave it 

 up after a half hour's patient trying and concluded to 

 give him another rest of a day or two. 



I had been outgeneraled again, but the big trout was 

 still in the pool. 



I did not fish the stream at any other point, for my heart 

 was set on the warrior under the bank only, and I 

 wouldn't fool away time on fingerlings. 



I went back to the boat considerably out o' gear, but 

 still hopeful of the final outcome, for I was convinced 

 that after a day or so in which to settle his disturbed 

 thoughts he could not resist a live minnow, even though 

 it did not belong to the order of cripples, for with due 

 deference to the "eminent authority on bass" I may be 

 pardoned if I think there is no "boss sense" in his cripple 

 theory. If bass had to wait on minnows to become 

 disabled and crippled before feeding on them, they would 

 soon all become so gaunt and thin that it would take a 

 whole school of 'em to make a shadow. 

 I [I had intended to pull across to cat-tail point and fish 

 a while but the wind was blowing a strong breeze up the 

 lake when I got back to the boat, and I concluded to go 

 to camp for once with a favorable wind, 



When I got away from the shore outside the line of 

 grass and rushes I saw old Sam and Charley in the big 

 white skiff a hundred rods below, tied to a stake off the 

 point above Horton's Bay, fishing for bass, and half a 

 mile below was a line of whitecaps reaching across the 

 lake, which denoted that a "capful o' wind was coming 

 over from Lake Michigan," When the blow was within 

 a hundred yatds or so of them they seemed to take notice 

 of it and headed the boat up lake with a sturdy pull at 

 the oars which, however, did not keep pace with the wind 

 that was roaring through the trees along shore in a man- 

 ner that boded no good to me and the ironclad. 



When the squall struck them Charley held the boat be- 

 fore the wind and they came pitching and rolling along 

 like a ship scudding under bare poles before a gale. 



In a minute or two I was in it with the ironclad and it 

 was a caution to snakes to see that boat hump herself; 

 first 'midships up and stem and stern down one moment, 

 and the conditions reversed the next as she rode the seas 

 without, however, taking a spoonful of water, as I kept 

 her going before the wind at a pace that prevented the 

 rollers from breaking in over the stern. 



Sam and Charley were only a hundred yards astern 

 coming up hand over hand, and Sam shouted, "Git out o' 

 the way Jeems, or we'll run over ye," which doubtless 

 caused a grin to disturb the gravity of Charley's face, as 

 he was doing all the work at the oars, with old Snake- 

 root sitting complacently in the stern. 



I shook a couple o' reefs out o' the foresa'l, took a pull 

 at the weather braces, so to speak, and the ironclad in- 

 creased her speed a couple of knots, but it was a power- 

 ful strain on the masts and sails — the skipper's back and 

 muscles in other words. 



The wind kept increasing in violence and it was not 

 long till we shot around Alexander's Point, where the 

 lake made a turn, and went rolling merrily across to 

 camp a few rods apart, puUine: a leisurely stroke, for the 

 pace in the last mile had tuckered the two skippers out, 

 and we were glad to beach our boats — lifting the ironclad 

 well out on the smooth sand — and call the race a draw. 



The others were in camp, having taken the hint when 

 they saw the blow coming while fishing off the birch 

 point, and Johnny was cutting a big swell over his daddy 

 with a fine baas he had taken, while the Professor was 

 trying to console himself with two or three measly goggle- 

 eyes and a runty pickerel that had been forced to suc- 

 cumb to his prowess. 



The wind veered around in the west, and by midnight 

 had increased to a smart gale which threatened to send 

 the tents sailing over the hill, but the big fly was pro- 

 tected by the small trees between it and the bank, and 

 was in no danger. 



I was awakened by the whipping and snapping of the 

 tent fly overhead, which had started a corner guy, and 

 the grinding and pounding of the wooden boats on the 

 beach next called for attention without much waste of 

 time. I lighted the lantern hanging against an upright, 

 slipped on a pair of shoes, and getting out "breechesless 

 and hatless," secured the loose guy and stayed the tent 

 by throwing a line over the iron pin of the front upright 

 and making it fast to a stake driven in the ground at the 

 edge of the bank. The next tent was served in the same 

 manner, but the third one — the headquarters of the Ken- 



