Nov. 3, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
881 
tion 's gone," as I rapidly grasped the butt end of the 
broken pole and drew through its rings the loosened line, 
till its water end pointed almost to my feet. It was held 
fast there by the creek's bottom, and up I pulled — a dis- 
appointed pull; but ah! it was off again, a creature of life 
once more, and through the rings the rapid line did run. 
My fish fortunately had sulked as soon as he had failed 
to feel the rankling barb within his flesh, and, being 
rested somewhat, was ready with his second wind to make 
a second fight. He tired soon, however, and with more 
force than skill, and little further pleasure, I finally 
dragged him over my friend's net, and found in him a fat 
beauty of 12in. in length. He weighed exactly lib. My 
friend and I tried to mend my rod but failed, so that my 
fishing for that day was at an end, and watching my com- 
panion fish the short remainder of the day's limit to the 
crossing of the main Inoian trail, 1 waded along with 
him. 
The sun's rays were fewer than in the morning, and the 
darkening clouds seemed to shorten the day and fore- 
shadow a coming storm, so hurrying onward, without 
further incident, we reached the same old spring hole, 
found our horses and boy there, and rode home. Our 
baskets contained twenty-six and twenty-seven, or a 
total of fifty-three good trout, and thus ended the hap- 
piest day of the trip. 
During the day the same trout was caught a moment 
later with the first hook in his mouth which he had broken 
from my companion's line. This would seem to indicate 
a hungry fish and that little pain is caused by the im- 
planted hook. 
During the day we had watched the trout in some light 
portions of the deep water, and often within 6ft. of 
where we stood they remained quietly at the bottom of 
the stream, apparently not afraid or hungry. Once dur- 
ing the day 1 saw a trout's snout beneath a shallow log 
and not 3ft. from me, and from curiosity I dropped my 
wormed hook in front of him. He took it but saw me as 
he rushed out, then dropped it as quickly and sped down 
the stream. Another fish took my coachman fly when it 
was dangling fully Sin. above the water, got hooked, and 
I landed a half-pounder. Again I heard a sudden splash 
behind me, and looking round I saw a half dead or 
groggy trout swimming off in shallow water. He had 
escaped from my nearly full creel. 
We planned after supper that we would the next day 
re-fish only the deep water below the Indians' watering 
place or clearing, and seeing that this portion was short, 
and that the best fishing was in the later part of the day, 
we decided to sleep longer next morning, and after break- 
fast ride and walk leisurely to the appointed place on the 
river and spend our last short day there. The clouds had 
gathered moru and more as the day ended, and our host 
predicted a storm as we bid him good night, and, after 
another bath, sought our rest. During the night we 
heard a severe thunder storm and the rain fell heavily 
for quite a time, and we feared a rainy coming day. 
The morning broke with a sunless, rainy sky. We 
breakfasted late, and about 9 o'clock it cleared somewhat 
and we decided to start, and, our horses being ready, off 
we went as before. The air was muggy and oppressively 
warm, and as we neared the forest's edge a steadily in- 
creasing rain began to fall, but undaunted we would not 
turn back. We drank at the familiar spring once more, 
bid good bye to our boy, and taking the trail stepped off. 
The rain was now dropping from the giant trees. The 
atmosphere was still moister and more oppressive yet. 
We found the mosquitoes more troublesome than ever be- 
fore because of the darker day. Plenteous and frequent 
applications of mosquito nauseator were required. We 
followed the main trail to the river and decided to walk 
north till we reached the Indian clearing on the opposite 
bank and start in there. We judged the distance to be 
about a mile to that place, and keeping upon the high 
ground with great effort we walked along, sweeping tbe 
dripping rain from the bushes on our backs. 
We reached what we thought a place opposite the point 
we wanted and decided tliat one should take a fixed stand 
upon the high ground to act as guide while the other 
made a bee line to the river's bank, and after reaching 
there would announce it by a call. I was told off to re- 
main stationary, and my companion disappeared from view 
to find the river through the swamp-like lower ground, 
He called back as he traveled along; I answered him with 
the Australian "coo- we" call— the furthest heard of any 
vocal sound I know of in the woods, 
I waited there half an hour, and his fainter calls be- 
came again more and more distinct, and appeared to 
come from a point further south than where he had entered 
the swamp. As he came nearer I wondered why he was 
returning. At last he reached the spot where I rested in 
a rotten tree stump, and seemed more bedraggled and 
forlorn than even my rain-soaked and luosquito.-bitten 
self. He reported no river approachable there and wanted 
to turn back to the old trail, and I would not. We were 
not lost I averred, it was the river that was lost, I said, 
and if we could not find it there we certainly could 
further up, and on I went, he following. 
After a time we struck an old trail and as that appeared 
to lead one way to the river we decided to follow it, and 
so traversing a few hills and hollows we recognized 
the last dip of the trail as that leading to the river 
where we had started in twice before, and in a moment 
later found that we were right. We were water-logged, 
hot and weary, and much disgusted with our woodcraft. 
It was raining still, and the great drops were falling be- 
sides from the dripping branches into the river, and the 
outlook was dismal throughout. The water looked redder 
than heretofore, and on its surface was much floating 
vegetable matter, and the stretch within sight showed 
frequently rising trout, and it was the latter tact that de- 
cided us to fish. 
It was one hour past the meridian and after a lunch of 
cold trout, bread and milk, we tackled up and started in. 
The water was very cold to us, and after fishing quite a 
distance with poor luck my companion was much dis- 
gusted with his lack of bites. The fish seemed to be 
playing on the top of the water, which was so stained 
that, save in the shadows, we could not see our feet this 
day. I had caught some fish on my dropper coachman 
fly, but had had few bites on the wormed hook. I then 
decided that what fish were feeding were after the flies 
that the rain storm had cast into the water. So I took 
off my sinker and bare hook, changed my coachman to 
the stretcher fly, and put on another fly as a dropper, and 
with my new rod and a longer line, I started in for what 
proved to be the mo8t enjoyable sport I had had. The 
end fly the fish occasionally wanted, but the nearer fly, 
though I changed it often, they did not seem to care for. 
On we fished in the rain, and the deer flies troubled us 
more than any other day, and the mosquitoes even as we 
waded the stream would bother us. The water got 
deeper and deeper in the deep places, and our lunches got 
wet as we suddenly stepped into a deeper hole. Mine 
finally broke through the paper coverings and floated 
from the right to the left side of the all-around pocket in 
my hunting coat; my milk bottle alone kept the water 
out. 
At the Indians' clearing we at last arrived, and while 
there we discussed, on a log, our watery lunch. Soon our 
limbs regained their normal warmth, and we were again 
just starting into the water, now seemingly very cold, 
indeed, and we knew that the deeper reach yet to come 
would be still more disagreeable, and most probably void 
of good results. We neither of us wanted to fish any 
further, but we could not reach the trail except on the 
side of the Indians' clearing, and "Had we better risk the 
Indians' dogs by approaching their camp and asking their 
way to the crossing trail lower down?" was the query that 
was revolving in our minds, when over the cliff's edge 
and down the narrow path to the stream, bucket in hand, 
a young squaw came. I asked her if we might leave the 
river here and cross her clearing and follow their own 
road to the main Indian trail. She replied not, but hur- 
riedly filling her bucket, started up the bank. A moment's 
chance was left, and I yelled sharply the same query to 
her. She stopped suddenly, bowed her head affirmatively, 
and disappeared over the bluff. That settled our plans, 
and out of the cold, deep water we started up the bank. 
The rain had now ceased to fall and the sun was trying 
to perforate the banks of clouds. When we reached the 
summit of the river's bank we found a level area of prob- 
ably ten acres of cleared ground covered with a growing 
crop of grain, then about lOin. high. A narrow path led 
to the further side of the open spot, and there we notict d 
a group of three log houses, two near together and a third 
a few rods away. A smoke cloud was lazily rising from 
a smudge fire in front of the cabins near together, and on 
a large pine log near the fire, and with his back toward 
us, sat an Indian. In the distance was also seen the 
young squaw whose acquaintance we had already made. 
Along the path we went straight to the fire, and as we 
approached a puppy dog of mongrel breed bounded toward 
us, and, alternately barking and playing, aroused the 
camp. We had some misgivings as to our reception, and 
just then a surly, wiry-haired, large cur noticed our 
approach and started tor us with an ugly growl. We 
were near the first house now, and our young squaw, with 
club in hand, struck the savage dog a direct blow on the 
head that resounded with a sickening thud. He dropped 
in his tracks and we heard no more from him. This act 
gave us courage, and we knew that we would suffer no 
harm. As we were walking, I observed the squaw walk 
up to the Indian on the log, speak with him, but still as 
a marble statue he remained, with back toward us. We 
walked up to him, and when a few feet away and exactly 
in front of him, we told him wh v we trespassed upon his 
presence, and asked him for directions to the lower trail. 
Not until we stopped did he elevate his eyes to our gaze. 
A perfect stoic he proved to be, for ho replied not, but 
kept on digging the long blade of a black-handled clasp- 
knife into the log on which he sat. In gentle voice we 
repeated our request, and, without speaking a word, he 
pointed his extended hand in the direction of the third 
house. We could see no path, however, and again asked 
if we understood aright, and a feeble "Yes" with the 
same pointing was all he'd say to us. 
While thus engaged more dogs appeared, and the chil- 
dren with several Indian girls had gathered around us at 
a few steps' distance. A young Indian came out of one 
of the houses, dressed in his van-colored lumberman's 
blanket jacket and other old clothes. He did not come 
near us, however. My friend observed an old squaw in 
one of the houses with a«babe in her arms. The Indian 
whom we addressed was very dark-skinned and old, yet 
straight in body. He looked well kept, and we afterward 
learned that his name wat "Honest John" because of his 
pretensions, but that actually he took whatever he could 
carry away, irrespective of ownership; that for thirty- 
five years past time had left him unchanged, and that he 
must have reached the age of seventy-five. Here he had 
brought his own family and their alliances, and mourned 
away bis time over hunting grounds lost and the steady 
encroachment of the paleface upon his people's domain. 
The young women were dressed quite decently, and were 
ornamen ted around their necks with tawdry tinsel and bead 
strings. One was observed to have enlarged neck glands, 
and looked thinner than the others. The tubercle bacillus 
was destroying her life. Consumption is their worst disease 
we were told. We bade them good-bye, and following the 
direction given found their path to the trail, reached the 
latter, and were soon at its crossing of the stream. 
It was now about 5 o'clock and we longed for a final 
caftt among the active trout there seen. In about an 
hour we had caught nearly a dozen more good trout and 
enjoyed the sport immensely because here we could cast 
a fairly long line and could better play the fish. The 
shades of evening began to fall on the sheltered stream, 
as with a fisherman's benediction on our lips we bid fare- 
well to the source of our recent joys, and with fac- home- 
ward turned we trudged our soaking clothes along the 
trail to the old spring, two miles nearer the house. Here we 
cleaned our fish as we waited for the horses to arrive. 
My friend had only ten and I had killed twenty-three, 
nearly all of the same size, each weighing probably ^lb. 
Our fishing that day had been spoiled by the rain and 
freshet, and that portion of the stream we had started for 
had not been fished. In three and a half days we had 
caught 334 trout without seeing any other species. They 
were small, it is true, and the river difficult to fish, and 
too inaccessible for comfort. The trips to and from the 
stream were very exhausting and spoiled our pleasure. 
Besides we were too far from the main line of the railroad 
to distribute our fish to advantage, and we scarcely ex- 
pect to again fish the same stream, as we heard of others 
— the Evergreen and Oconto— througn the gentlemanly 
officials of the Northwestern Railroad, said to contain 
larger trout, were more enjoyable to fish and where a 
camping outfit was no objection. 
After resting the next day (Sunday) we started home- 
ward the following morning, stayed off at Clintonville 
two days and reached Chicago on the fifteenth day of 
our trip. We had lived on trout for nearly ten days of 
this time, and the phospho-albumen of this agile fish had 
nourished our exhausted nerve-cells, so that with re- 
newed vigor werwere desirous to again re-enter the fight 
for sustenance and home. Dr. Alfred Hinde. 
Chicago, 111. 
ONE AFTERNOON LAST SUMMER, 
The veteran and the youngster were conversing on that 
subject which is always so interesting to disciples of 
Izaak Walton. For two hours the youngster had listened 
while the veteran had landed gleaming trout and lusty 
bass from the pools of memory and the ripples of the 
past, now and then, I fear, hooking an especially large 
victim in the cool, dark, well-stocked spring-runs of fic- 
tion. The conversation had turned to a neighboring 
pond, where many fished that did but fish in vam. The 
black bass were there, you might stand on the bank and see 
them, long, dark, rakish, pirate-looking fellows, darting 
up the channel or basking a yard below the surface in 
the water-cooled sunshine or lying in the shadows of the 
overhanging trees. They looked fierce and hungry 
enough for anything, but their looks were deceiving. No 
matter how large, juicy and appetizing the worm you 
dangled before their noses, they turned disgustedly away; 
they had naught but scorn for tender frog or crusty 
crawfish; and the grizzly-king, the brown-hackle and the 
royal-coachman dimpled the surface of the water all in 
vam. They had acquired, in fact, such reputations as 
connoisseurs that one fish from this pond was considered 
as great a catch as half a dozen hooked in any other 
waters. 
The veteran had been whispering legends of three and 
four-pounders — great, rushing, resistless fellows, that, 
darting . from beneath some old stump, had seized his 
bait and snapped his line with one impulsive rush; or 
again, after a stubborn fight of ten minutes or so, had 
stood erect upon their tails, and with widely gaping 
mouth, spat the bait scornfully out and vanished in the 
depths. 
The youngster grew interested — nay, excited. "I'm 
going down to that pond this afternoon with every vari- 
ety of bait obtainable, and if I don't catch some of those 
tish I'll — well, I believe 1 can catch some — that's all." 
"That's right," said the veteran. "You get your bait; 
I'll meet you at the pond and we'll give them a trial." 
The shadows pointed to 3 P. M. when the youngster 
pushed his boat from the bank and paddled out into the 
channel. It was a long narrow pond with high, steep, 
thickly wooded banks and one edge brightened by a green 
and lusty fringe of rushes; here and there gnarled, 
water-soaked logs thrust their brown noses above the 
surface of the water, affording basking places for long 
rows of shiny turtles that craned their necks and 
splashed noisily into the depths when an observer drew 
near. In the middle lay a marshy island bordered with 
white lily-pads, where frogs croaked and spattered and 
great blue herons dreamed their philosophic visions. 
The youngster drifted with the lazy current, throwing 
his flies toward the bank beneath the overhanging 
branches. The tree-tops were so plainly reflected in the 
clear water that he almost seemed like to catch his hook 
in the inverted twigs, until the plashing flies changed the 
picture into circling ripples. And now he came abreast 
of a submerged tree, the ragged limbs of which protruded 
here and there from the water. What a likely lurking 
place for a wily bass. The long line straightened out be- 
nind, the three flies shot forward, settled gently and sank 
slowly beneath the surface — snap — whiz, and the royal 
coachman had firmly hooked a victim. A vain jerk, a 
few short runs and a three-quarter-pound fish lay flapping 
in the boat. 
Just then a hallo and rustle in the bushes announced 
that the veteran had kept his appointment. As he 
boarded the craft he said that he had not come to fish, 
and didn't intend to do anything but manage the paddle 
and landing net. He knew all the likely haunts about 
the pond, and would row from one to another until each 
had received fair trial. The youngster reasoned against 
this unselfish resolve, but in vain. And now the leader, 
fitted with the gaudy flies, was wound about the fisher- 
man's hat and two lively minnows were hooked upon the 
line. 
Out toward the middle of the pond several large logs 
were lying at various angles one upon another, the upper 
ends near the surface, the butts lost to sight in the deep 
pool. Toward these the boat glided cautiously, and the 
bait dropped in their midst. Suddenly there was a jerk, 
a strong pull that bent the lancewood tip to the water, 
another sharp, short fight, and the landing net scooped 
in a bass a half pound heavier than the first victim. 
"Hurrah, boys," said the Veteran, "that's the way to 
snatch 'em. Put on a lively minnow and try that place 
again." 
For a few moments all was still save for the whiz of 
the dragon flies that zigzagged about in the sunshine and 
the joyful snickerings and cachinnations of a red squirrel 
that made fun of the fishermen from his perch in a neigh- 
boring butternut tree. The minnow, after swimming 
about a little, suddenly made for the dark hole under one 
of the logs. My I what a pull! Whiz! goes the line — 
whir! sings the reel — then splash — and the great fellow 
bounds twice his iength into the air. But the tip was 
lowered, the line taut, and the mad leap was in vain. 
Now the line cuts the water in a half -circle as he swims 
slowly but strongly. Reel up quick— there he comes like 
a flash straight tor the boat. If he gets under it he's gone 
and the tackle with him. But the line slacked not an 
instant; a quick, strong turn of the wrist and he just 
clears the bow. Now he's in deep water,.sulky, but still 
full of fight. Get the landing net ready, and perhaps he 
can be drawn within reach of it. Slowly he comes, inch 
by inch, until within a foot of the surface. Oh, what a 
rush! right for the logs — if he reaches that brush we'll 
never see him again. But the veteran didn't intend he 
should reach the brush. Quick as a flash, leaning over 
the side until the gunwale dipped water, he thrust the net 
in front of the darting fish. A quick dip — a loud splatter 
— a shower of shining drops and 3jlbs. of black bass 
dropped into the boat, while the united voices of the 
veteran and youngster sounded such a joyful hallelujah 
that a green heron was frightened into spasms of flight, 
and every turtle within hearing splashed hastily into the 
water. 
After this commotion it was deemed best to seek new 
grounds: so the fishermen floated slowly from place to 
place about the pond, trying minnows here, crawfish 
there, and spoon and flies between; but the fish had lost 
their appetites and settled into their usual state of apathy. 
