10 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[July 7, 1894. 
Ned's favor, as the boatmen were now too busy unloading 
the boat and preparing camp to further discuss the ques- 
tion. These half-breeds are exceedingly nervous when 
on the lake, and always ready, at the least indication of a 
storm, to break for a harbor. It is well it is so, for the 
great reservoir is full of startling and dangerous surprises. 
One moment a butterfly may soar o'er its silver surface, 
while the next it is lashed into tempestuous seas that 
fairly appall with their destructive force. 
About an hour after we had landpd the Hudson Bay 
agent from Aguawa, accompanied by two Indians, dashed 
through the breakers into the channel for the island in a 
sailboat much smaller than ours. They stated that they 
had a very hard time of it in weathering the rough seas 
and that it was about all the little boat could stand. I 
was really glad to see my patient and realize that my 
first case as an M. D. had been so eminently successful. 
He said that he was about well the next mornin i, and 
would have taken sail with us if he had only have risen 
early enough. He came here especially to see his son, 
who was engaged in the fisheries at this point. 
Ned here called Peter's attention to the arrival of his 
prospective father-in-law in the little sailboat and asked 
him how it was that such a little clipper as that could so 
safely come through a heavy sea. 
"She had little or no load, is light and dances on the 
water like a cork," replied the astute Peter. 
"That's it, is it? I thought size had something to do 
with safety in sailing." 
"Sometimes, not always." 
"This is one of the times?" 
"It seems so." 
"All right, Peter, I only wanted a little information on 
the subject and I have it in clear cut shape." 
"You know, Ned," I here put in, 
"The little boats keep near the shore, 
The big ones venture more." 
Peter made no answer to this, but he walked away with 
a sort of puzzled look upon his face and sought his future 
father-in-law for a Chippewa chat, as they all so con- 
versed. He could not clearly see that we were sticking 
pins into him relative to his excessive timidity in sailing. 
Kenosh was more plucky and would hazard seas that 
would terrify Peter, but as he was not captain had to 
submit to the orders of his superior. 
The island, since we were here last summer, had been 
completely despoiled of its picturesque beauty. Frame 
shanties, fish, ice and store houses, and all the parapher- 
nalia that attaches to a fishing station, were scattered 
over the place, almost totally disfiguring it. Not only 
that, but in a rocky depression adjoining the pier, all the 
offal from the fish was there deposited, from which came 
an odor that was not wafted from the Vale of Cashmere. 
During the afternoon the fishing boats, which had been 
out for their harvest from the sea, returned to the pier 
and unloaded their catches, which were immediately 
taken in hand, cleaned and packed in ice in large fish 
cars, to await the arrival of the tug, which puts in an 
appearance every third day. 
I was particularly struck, while at the pier, with one of 
the fishermen, a red-headed Irishman they all called "the 
Devil," but whom I would call a Massaniello were it not 
for his fiery hair, as he had the air of a liberty-loving 
mortal which seemed to fully possess him. He was a very 
striking picture indeed, his features being exceedingly 
handsome and expressive, while his form was that of an 
accomplished athlete, with a grace of supple movement 
that was irresistibly attractive. He was one of the most 
daring sailors on the North Shore, and would venture in 
any tempestuous sea to make his "lifts" when other fish- 
ermen declined to go. Frequently he set his nets some 
fifteen or twenty miles from shore, and in summer time 
would seek a depth of water fully 500ft. , where the white- 
fish were more abundant and in better condition. His 
ventures were always fraught with great success, his 
returns being nearly double those of others, and as a con- 
sequence his pay was in the lead by about fifty per cent. 
He came in with his "lift" shortly after we had arrived, 
it weighing over 7001bs. and composed principally of 
whitefish and Mackinac trout. His boat, which he 
handled with the marvelous skill of the Norseman of old, 
was a first-class Colling wood and a rare model of beauty, 
having the swiftness of a racing yacht. The Indians and 
half-breeds seemed to venerate him for his matchless sea- 
manship and daring recklessness and therefore gave him 
the Satanic name by which he is known from one end of 
Lake Superior to the other. 
The great trouble he first encountered here was in get- 
ting his two "helpers" inspired with his dauntless courage. 
After his men had fully realized his complete mastery of 
the raging billows they then had implicit confidence in 
him, believing that he could safely ride bis boat in any 
tempest the Sea God would introduce. 
When a raging storm of fierce wind and wild wave 
confronted the fishermen in the morning, the time they 
go to make their "lifts," they would give an ominous 
shake of their heads and say, "The Devil can ride the 
storm, but we won't," and then they returned to other 
duties appertaining to their calling. 
This dare-devil of a fisherman, with the fiery locks, may 
yet encounter, as the immortal bard says: 
"The rough seas, that spare not any man." 
After we had partaken of a very appetizing meal, Ned 
concluded to try the rocks on the outside, in hopes of se- 
curing a Salvelinus fontinalis, but he soon returned stat- 
ing that the wind was blowing such a respectable gale 
and the waves so savagely battling the unshapen shore, 
that he found it impossible to deliver his flies more than 
a few feet from the edge of the flinty granite. 
In the meantime I had crossed to the main shore with a 
view of securing some late papers from the ruling head of 
the little hamlet there established, but obtained only a 
small county paper about ten days old, which contained 
nothing of importance save a new method of making 
sauerkraut and instructions for killing the potato-bug, 
matters which interested me not, as I neither ate the 
former nor hankered for the gore of the latter. 
The "northwester" which was raging so fiercely would 
doubtless continue for three days and so hold us to this 
now ill-favored place which afforded us not even the solace 
of solitude, the sight of a purling brook or a mountain in 
its azure hue. It was all fish, Indians and pale-faces, 
men, women and children, boiling caldrons of oil, mend- 
ing of nets and the jargon of Chippewa and French with 
that "very ancient and fish-like smell," as Trinculo the 
jester describes it, invading every part of this once lovely 
island. Civilization makes sad havoc with the picturesque 
beauties of nature, and this is a faithful exemplification. 
The course of nature is the art of God; "In it there are 
no grotesques, nothing framed to fill up empty cantons 
and unnecessary spaces. She never deceived you; the 
rocks, mountains, the streams, always speak the same 
language; a shower of snow may hide the verdant woods 
in spring, a thunderstorm may renderj the blue limpid 
streams foul and turbulent; but these effects are rare and 
transient; in a few hours, or, at most, a few days, all the 
sources of beauty are renovated. She knows no pause in 
progress and development, and attaches her curse on all 
inaction." 
"To me, more dear, congenial to my heart, 
One native charm, than all the gloss of art." 
During the afternoon the bright sun came out and filled 
the deep woods with golden gleams, but the wild waves 
rolled on and battered the beetling cliffs and low shore- 
lands, which are dominant here, with a violence and a 
roar like discharged ordnance. The noon wore on apace, 
the shadows lengthened, twilight came, the roso of the 
zenith glowed richer and warmer as the azure darkened, 
the stars twinkled, the fire-flies blazed in the shrubbery 
and night's silent reign began. 
Around the camp-fire we gather and as its genial 
warmth diffuses we watch the odd flickers of light and 
shade, while the smoke curls upward through the 
branches overhead. Anon, we hear the "scraping of a 
fiddle" from the main shore, and then the shuffle of many 
feet. 
"A dance," says one of the boatmen, and then hurriedly 
depart to take boat for the scene where merrilly whirled 
the wheels of the dizzying dances. 
"They'll make a night of it," says Ned. 
"All right," says I, "let us follow example and make a 
night of it in our blankets." 
"Agreed." 
And then two stalwart forms were quietly rolled within 
the heavy blankets and soon were oblivious to all things 
terpsichdrean or terrestrial. Alex. Stabbuck. 
[to be concluded.] 
BASS AT HEIGHT OF LANDS. 
Amenia, N. D., June 7. — I have waited in vain for some 
one to write a few words in regard to fishing in the 
park regions of Minnesota. I have just returned from a 
three weeks'J fishing , trip, and while we have no large 
catches to tell about, we enjoyed every minute of our 
time and could have caught ten times as many fish as we 
did. We only fished for camp use and sending only one 
lot of lOOlbs. away. 
Never was a more congenial party picked — Carr, 
Woods, Reed and I who write. From Detroit, Minn., a 
hired conveyance took us and our baggage to our destina- 
tion — Height of Land Lake, one of the prettiest sheets of 
water in the park regions. We had hardly put up our 
tents when Walter and the cook hurriedly got out their 
rods, reels, etc., set up their Acme boat and started out to 
catch some fish for supper. We soon had six or seven 
wall-eyed pike averaging 21bs. , and then rowing back to 
camp, their jackets of scales had soon come off and the 
cor>k had them getting a good brown on that made the 
fisherman wonder why they were so hungry. 
The next day Jack and Henry went fishing, and at 6 
o'clock that night came in with 82 big-mouth bass, besides 
several pike and pickerel, all caught with one rod. The 
next morning by 4 o'clock the cook was up and at 5 he 
grabbed a Winchester and sent three quick shots into an 
old oak tree, causing the lazy part of the camp to fall 
out of bed, only to find the cook hard at his own break- 
fast and Henry waiting for us to help run the boats from 
Height of Land up the creek to Mud Lake for a try for 
bass. This is a small lake not over 40 rods long by 30 
wide, but no one knows how deep. It came off clear and 
hot, with not a breath of air — and not a fish. After an 
hour of steady casting, using all the different kinds of 
bait we possibly could think of, we quit casting, and the 
cook chased the rest out of a boat and commenced to 
troll. It seemed to suit their epicurean taste and in ten 
minutes he had four beauties carefully placed out of the 
sun, while his party eyed him with dispair from the 
shore. 
The next morningtwo of us were afloat on Lower Twin 
Lake by the time the fog had raised, and good luck at 
once took us in hand and remained with us all the morn- 
ing. We came in at noon with twelve good bass. 
So the days rolled by one by one until two of the party 
had to leave, and the cook and the lone fisherman held 
undisputed sway. After a few days pleasant sport around 
Upper and Lower Twin Lakes, we decided to go up to Six 
Lake, and try for bass and pickerel. This is a small lake 
covering about 160 acres, without inlet or outlet. The cook 
and Jack had succeeded in getting forty bass there in 
thirty minutes last year. Our party was increased by 
Dave and Herman. By 10 o'clock we had our boats in 
the water. The lone fisherman was rowing and the cook 
was casting. Suddenly there was wild excitement, for 
Jack had a 121bs. pickerel hooked, and there was a hard 
fight going on to see who should conquer. The fish 
finally came up and into the boat as though he had done 
that every day of his life. Henry rowed Jack away and 
the cook made a cast almost touching the shore, when 
there was a flash and the lone fisherman yelled "Give 
him line." The reel hummed and the line run out faster 
and faster, the cook afraid to check him too suddenly. 
W hen he suddenly felt the strain of the line he jumped 
almost out of the water and made a bee line for the boat; 
then he gently came up, and after a little coaxing allowed 
himself to be lifted into the boat. He was half an inch 
shorter than Jack's, but a little heavier. Both were 
caught within 50ft. of each other. 
We spent a pleasant day here, and after a good night's 
rest found a clear morning with not a breath of air mov- 
ing. We tried them early, and after catching a few big- 
mouths concluded to move further north and cast our 
lines into Island Lake, the prettiest sheet of water in 
Becker county, if not in the State. Becker county 
alone has 232 lakes within her borders. The water 
is clear as crystal, with a high rocky Bhore, the pine un- 
cut and with only one house or clearing upon that thirty 
miles of shore fine. Here we pitched our tent on a sandy 
shore, ran out our three boats and went over to a little 
bay and tried for a few big-mouths for dinner. We soon 
succeeded in getting half a dozen, and then dinner and 
a four-mile row to the bay. There we had the most 
pleasant two hours of our three weeks' stay with the big- 
mouths; and we struck several lOlba. pickerel for a 
change. 
The lakes along the Pine Point Reservation — Height of 
Land, Cotton, Upper and Lower Twin, Six Island, Big 
and Little Toad and a dozen more — are all good fishing. 
Only one other party was fishing on them last year, and 
there had been no one so far this year excepting our- 
selves. There are countless numbers of bass, more big- 
mouths than small-mouths. Pike, the next best fish in 
these waters, during June give a man good still-fishing 
and plenty of deep trolling. Boats can be secured of H. 
W. Paul or Jack Brown, Jarvis P. O., Minn. Either of 
them are well acquainted with all the lakes and only ask 
what would be in the East very small wages. 
Flickebtail. 
ON THE OLD FARM. 
Buck and I had come back to the old farm and were to 
spend a few days. There was an excellent trout stream 
near by, so naturally we were impatient to try our hand 
at the sport. We made an early start. Down past the 
old barn, the cows not yet up watched us wandering by 
as they slowly chewed their cuds, while one or two labor- 
iously arose. Through the meadow we hastened, the cool 
fragrant air filling us with a new life. The dew on the 
clover made the waders delightfully cool. 
We entered a belt of woods, and forcing our way through 
the tangled underbrush, were soon slipping, sliding and 
jumping down the steep side of a ravine to the stream. 
The winding alder-covered banks were strewn with huge 
moss-covered boulders, and myriads of delicately tinted 
wild flowers covered the ground. 
The coarse, black, snaky roots of trees, near the banks, 
grew in to the water, and driftwood getting tangled in 
these, formed small dams around which the water swirled 
and bubbled. 
The joyous notes of many birds, the lapping and gurg- 
ling of the foam-flecked water — as it glided past, mingled 
with the roar of the cascade, up stream, all produced a 
charm that fascinated us. 
# "Isn't this great?" exclaimed Buck enthusiastically. 
"You bet," I replied, taking the cover off my rod to 
joint it. Everything ready, I pulled up the waders, and 
stepping in the water with as little noise as possible, 
waded slowly down stream, making several casts, but 
getting no rise. 
"There, just beyond that half submerged rock where 
the water is quiet and deep. Fine place." 
Swis-s-s! the silk went circling through the air, and the 
light blue-blow kissed the surface in a most natural 
manner. It proved tempting too, for with a rush that 
made the water boil it was seized. A quick turn of the 
wrist and whir-r-r went the reel. The line shot down 
and the silk cut the water at a furious rate, first one side, 
then the other, under the rock and out again. I did my 
beBt to keep him from tangling the line on a root or snag 
while the rod bent like a whip. I kept the line as taut as 
possible, and yet not enough for him to tear off. 
Slowly his fighting became less vigorous, and as slowly 
I reeled in. Finally he rose to the surface almost ex- 
hausted, and summoning all his strength, leaped shining 
and dripping out of the water. This was the last desper- 
ate effort, and as soon as over I reeled slowly in and se- 
cured him. 
He was a beauty as he lay open-mouthed in the creel, 
his wet, shining, speckled side outlined against the moss 
with which I had lined the basket. 
I started in again, and reveled in the sport until noon, 
when I met Buck at an appointed place, and we lunched. 
After a short rest we went on, and at supper time we 
started across the fields for home. To make a hard task 
worse it began to rain. It was a long walk, especially 
after being on our feet all day, and the creel straps hung 
heavy on our shoulders, but we plodded slowly on, and at 
last reached the house, wet, tired and hungry. Buck 
usually chuckles and guys me some — when we come to 
count over our catches, but he did not so much as "crack 
a smile" this time. I had beaten by a good 13. But he 
vowed vengeance the next time out. 
Soon after we climbed the old-fashiohed stairs and 
turned in, two healthily tired and happy fellows. L. 
Buffalo, N. Y. 
With Nursing Bottles Under their Fins. 
Springfield, Vt., June 29. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
I read with interest "Von W.'s" letter in the June 23 
issue. I am acquainted with this gifted writer by reputa- 
tion, for of him it may truthfully be said "his fame spread 
abroad throughout all that country," but as he is a neigh- 
bor of mine I anticipate a closer acquaintance in the near 
future. The idea "Von W." gave of our fishing is pain- 
fully correct. The cause of this deplorable state of affairs 
is the non-observance of the six-inch law. A law is a 
dead letter unless it is backed by public opinion, and this 
law, though a good one, is without the requisite backing. 
Of course there are many exceptions, but our average 
anglers catch and keep trout so small it is a wonder they 
could get on the hook, and one almost expects to see each 
baby trout with a nursing bottle under his fin, "Von 
W." suggests that a close season of about three years 
would be a remedy; true, it would afford temporary re- 
lief, but when the open season came every man and boy 
would hie himself tc the streams to enjoy the fruits of the 
long close season, and unless the six-inch law was strictly 
observed the second state of our fishing would be worse 
than the first. When our fishermen awake to a realiza- 
tion that they are killing the goose that lays the golden 
eggs, and appreciate and faithfully observe the above law, 
and "the powers that be" intelligently and generously 
restock our streams, then and then only, will the historic 
' 'good fishing" in southern Vermont waters be restored 
and perpetuated. W. W. B. 
A Self-Baited Hook. 
Muskoka, Can. — Some time ago I was fishing with a 
friend, and grand sport we were having. Our hait was 
minnows. My friend had on a perch of about 4in. in 
length, and no sooner had he thrown in than the bait was 
grabbed. Making the strike, he missed his fish, but in- 
stead of the perch bait being on his hook, it was replaced 
by a small shiner, which was hooked as neatly through 
the lips as though placed there by human hand; the fish 
which had bitten had kept the perch, and the hook had 
come in contact with the shiner in the fish's mouth. 
J. H. Wilmott. 
