July 18, 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
49 
our use. Usually our day's fishing is over by 10 o'clock 
in the morning. We "fix things" the rest of the day. 
Without doubt the main discovery of our camp this year 
has been that of the "croppy bar." We have found a 
place in the lake where a submerged conical bar runs up 
out of the deep blue water to within 10 to 15ft. of the sur- 
face. Here we have taken the largest and finest croppies 
I ever personally saw, some weighing over l^lbs., and a 
few nearly 3lbs. Fishing here with small minnows, we 
have on three mornings taken seventy-two fine croppies, 
Btoppin e; at twenty -four each day. I think we could easily 
take 100 a day if we liked. We keep about a dozen a day, 
and have about concluded that we must leave that croppy 
bar alone after this, as the fish are too eager and impor- 
tunate to suit us. We have found these deep-water crop- 
Eies the best eating fish in the lake, and this is why we 
ave stopped trying for black bass with frog, or for rock 
bass with the fly. I don't know what we are going to do 
unless the fishing gets harder. 
Last night we had a grand dinner, J. B. H. and I. We 
had coup, very fine, and for a wonder done so that we 
could eat it as the first course and not the fifth. We had 
fish, fried, and a great roast of croppy — a big one, baked 
carefully during an anxious fifty minutes in the Buzzacott 
oven, to the accompaniment of a dressing compounded 
after much deliberation. I had never eaten a more 
delicate or a better cooked bit of fish. We had bacon 
and eggs of course, and we had Maryland beaten biscuit 
and cold butter from our spring cold storage. Also we had 
frogs' legs, big ones, off from certain vast bullfrogs whose 
home we had discovered, and some fine apricots of Cali- 
. fornia, and coffee as good as any ever brewed. Really, it 
would be almost wicked to have any better time than we 
had last night. 
In regard to the frog legs, there occurred almost the 
only adventure which has come into our tranquil life in 
camp. We were just on the point of pushing out from 
shore in our boat one morning when we discovered, or 
rather uncovered, a big bullfrog which had gone to sleep 
under the boat after a night of song and dissipation. 
Him we assailed with eagerness, holding close gaze upon 
his fat hindlegs. The frog saw that his only refuge was 
under the boat, and we endeavored to land a knock-out 
blow before he got under cover. Meantime we did not 
notice that the boat was drifting under the projecting 
Kmb of a tree, I heard a loud "Look out!" from the 
other end of the boat, and turned to see J. B. H. just dis- 
appearing in the lake over the side of the boat, pushed 
out of the boat by the limb of the tree. Rescue was an 
easy matter, and the first thing he wanted was to know 
where the frog had gone to. Having found and slain 
that quarry, he went to camp and changed his clothes, 
taking no hurt nor alarm, in spite of his seventy -five 
years of age. We enjoyed that frog's hindlegs very much. 
One invention of our camp this year we have found a 
good one, and that is our coffee bags. We have in the 
past been much bothered by certain ants, daddy-long-legs, 
crickets and the like, which would find their way into the 
tightest canisters we could get. This year we put up our 
sugar, coffee and salt in small rubber bags, and we find 
these water-proof and ant-proof, besides having the merit 
of taking up no room when not in use. A tin vessel is the 
hardest sort of thing to pack for transportation. Bags 
and sacks are better vessels. Our hempen water bucket is 
a gem. The fluted lantern which we so highly prized 
before we had tried it has for years been a first- class nui- 
sance, taking up nearly as much room as a horse and 
buggy. I am pleased to say that it will trouble us no 
more. Last night it began to cut up its antics again, going 
all ablaze in its inner chambers and nearly setting the 
tent afire. This time I kicked it so far down the hill that 
it went into a dozen pieces, and these can be had by any- 
one inquiring at this hill. Next year we shall take up the 
question of a camp lantern, and I think we may take a 
small bicycle lamp, which will not demand much room. 
It would seem that the fame of Forest and Stkeam, the 
newspaper, has gone abroad in the land, and that the 
Camp Forest and Stream has attained at least a local 
significance. The other day J. B. H. and I were return- 
ing from one of our voyages of exploration among the odd 
hills and hollows of this glacial country when, as we neared 
the shore of our lake, we spied a boat with three fishermen 
in it something like a quarter of a mile away. We walked 
along the beach , apparently observed by the occupants of 
the boat, for, as we turned toward our path up the bluff 
to our camp, we heard a hail across the water in an un- 
known voice: "Hurrah for Forest AND Stream!" This 
we answered in the dark, as it were. Later the boat 
came ashore and one of the party introduced himself as 
Mr. Bridgman, "I am a distant relative of yours, I 
think," he said, "and have been for some years, I am 
one of the big Forest and Stream family," Was not that 
a pleasant little happening? Indeed, all things in this 
camp are pleasant, I am glad to add that our new found 
friend caught a S^lbs. bass that evening — a beauty, and 
the largest we have seen this week — thereby beating the 
veteran J. B, H. that day on the bass question. 
We had started out with one frog to get a bass for sup- 
per, and in a lilypad cove we got our strike, but the bass 
broke away in the lily stems. I had to criticise J, B. H. 
for letting our supper get away in that fashion, but the 
fly-rod soon got us enough rock bass, that courteous and 
obliging little fish being ever present and apparently 
anxious to be eaten. 
There are some big pike in our little lake, not many of 
them, but a few large ones, 30 to 301bs , such as are taken 
one or two every year or so. We have never tried for 
these, and as they have gone into the deep water at this 
season we may not get any. One of these fish weighing 
451bs. was washed ashore dead in the ice this spring at 
Troy Lake, a few miles from us. Several bass fishermen 
in our lake, and some good ones, have had their lines 
broken by heavy strikes of some mysterious monster, and 
one gentleman last year played a 301b. fish and had it up to 
the boat, when it broke away at last. Some day we shall 
get mixed up with one of these fish, perhaps. 
We know of some trout not a dozen miles away, and 
we have a whole lake full ot small-mouth bass waiting for 
us, and a certain creek full of big large-mouth bass, and 
a lot of other attractions to which we shall have to hurry 
to get aroimd. Some of these things we hope to see duly 
attended to before we leave. 
It is no fun writing copy on a tackle box on your knee, 
while J. B. H. is fixing up to go oat after a croppy or so 
for supper. What if a croppy should pull him in? As 
between copy and croppy, who can doubt where duty lies? 
E. ,H0UGfl. 
FLY-FISHING 
On the North Shore of Lake Superior. 
[Continued' from page S7.] 
When we all arose the next morning the indications 
for fair weather were of an adverse character. The clouds 
were trooping along the upper element with their shapes 
and aspects momentarily changing — now watery gray 
and again white as snowdrifts against a dark blue sky. 
The trees and bushes were bending and rustling, and the 
tossing waves rose high on tiptoe to kiss the northern 
breezes, which bade fair to increase as the morning wore 
away. 
Ned proposed a trip after breakfast to an outlying 
island which we had never fished. There might be trout 
galore poising around its bold shores of dismantled rock, 
but Kenosh said he never heard of a trout being captured 
there. 
"Well, we wiU try it anyhow," said Ned, and that sup- 
pressed aU talk about the absent trout. 
Kenosh was not pleased at the way his declaration was 
received, but being a sapient half-breed tightly closed his 
mouth, as did lago when he declared, "he never would 
speak word." 
The breakfast over, the table cleared and rods ready for 
action, we all solemnly trudged down to the boat and 
then hastily embarked for the island of no name and no 
trout. The north front of the ragged and rifted island, 
which had stood for imtold years against the most terrific 
storms from the cold regions of the north, ran up from 
the lake with a wavering surface in curves of weird 
sculptured fantasies from the fingers of nature. 
We started in with great zeal on reaching the desired 
waters, sending our feathered messengers over the most 
seductive chasms, but no silver and scarlet beauty of the 
wild, waving waters and lonely isle left hie lurking place 
to peep over the surface at lures of lavender or livid, pink 
or purple, sky dyed or scarlet deep. Even the "dusting 
brush" was disdained as well as the lively Parmachenee- 
belle. Nowhere could we get a rise, nowhere see a pois- 
ing or fleeting trout. On completing the circuit of the 
shoreland, the triumph of the wily half-breed was assured 
and he was so tickled over it that he turned to Ned as we 
were leaving the island and exclaimed in exulting tone : 
"What I tell you, no fish here?" 
"What is here then?" inquired Ned. 
"Maybe bear," this with a merry twinkle in his eye. 
"Oh," spoke up Jo, "may be three bear," and then an- 
other smile illumed the boat. 
"Say, Ned," I here put in, "maybe burning bears," and 
then three of us made merry sunshine radiate. 
"I never killed a bear and then shinned up a tree to 
escape from it," retorted Ned. 
This rejoinder threw the parental half breed into such 
a state of gravity that we all laughed at him so hearty 
that his face turned to a lobster red. He then consider- 
ately retreated from the field of humor, saying, "I quit, I 
fool, you wise; you burn 'em, I shoot 'em." 
This was received with another round of merriment 
and then the bear stories were shelved and we pursued 
our course to our old fishing grounds on the main shore. 
On reaching the lofty and retiring waUs so varied in 
form and sculpture, and so delicately fringed with ferns 
and flowering plants and stunted spruces, we started in 
for the S. fontinalis with the enthusiasm of an angling 
crusader. 
It was some time before I coaxed one of the brook beau- 
ties to make the acquaintance of my winsome Parma- 
chenee-belle — the leading fly. He, however, became so 
affectionate that he caressed and kissed her till he found 
himself struggling in the net. No more being aroused to the 
surface after patient and earnest efforts, we glide slowly 
along to some shattered cliffs which a stray sunbeam that 
had escaped from a somber cloud was gilding and bur- 
nishing, and there convinced a jeweled beauty that he 
knew naught of the wiles of the angler. He scorned my 
belle of the yellow plumes and lovingly embraced the 
romantic Esmerelda, but it mattered not which he 
favored, they were both as deceitful as the daughter of 
the sun, the entrancing Circe. He was not an ounce 
under 31bs, , and a poem in glittering scales and mottled 
dyes. 
Again we advance, and on reaching some tattered 
ridges where stood dark masses of innumerable pines and 
spruces, we again wage a determined war against the 
rose-colored and orange-painted dandies, and the result 
was two matchless robed darlings in a very short time. 
Noon approaching, and the half-breeds exhibiting sly 
indications of hunger, we turn around, headed for the 
distant camp. Ned's royal red "dusting brush" was not 
the terror it had previously been, but before we reached 
camp it had managed to pick up three fine trout, while 
my ladies, in all their pride of ravishing colors, were 
treated with infinite contempt, Ned being in the stern 
and the boat speeding along, he simply kept his lures 
dancing on the water, or rather trailing," or to be more 
specific, trolling, and thereby captured the trinity. Hav- 
ing now an over supply of trout for the larder, we discon- 
tinued the sport. 
After we had dined quite royally we started on an 
exploring trip in search of a wandering stream called Clear 
Creek. We closely hugged the shore, fearful of missing 
it, and after going five or six miles were unable to locate 
it. We, however, did find a tinkling brook about a mile 
this side of Sand River, but not the one that answered 
the description given us. A magnificent pool was said to 
be at its mouth, where at sunset the trout were con- 
stantly leaping and frolicking till the shadows darkened 
its translucent water. It was located 
"In a weird and mysterious spot 
A ravine hallow'd tor fairy grot, 
Wliere mossy boulders and branches that lean 
O'er the dark abyss are kept ever green; 
For the gushing spout of a waterfall, 
That leaps o'er the sloping granite wall, 
With its refreshing foam and its spray 
Keeps herbage and foMage forever gay." 
It was like looking for the lost Atlantis to find this 
creek, and after reaching Sand River we hopelessly 
turned about and commenced the return. Ned said the 
shore we were passing looked so exceedingly trouty that 
he would endeavor to entice some of the fleckered family. 
I was satisfied in watching his strenuous efforts, and after 
he had hopefully delivered his flies for over a mile of the 
notched and jagged shore he was at last rewarded 
with a pound trout and then he withdrew from the 
angle. 
Here we again came to the little silver brook, and 
thinking probably that it might develop some lare'e and 
lovely pools further up its sourc«^, sent the tawny Ifenosh 
to carefully investigate it. He vigorously started off 
along its wandering course, breasting his way through 
the thickets, and clambering over fallen timber, with an 
occasional tramp in the water. There was not much 
poetry in such a tiresome walk, though there evidently 
was in the music of the little tinkling stream, as it wan- 
dered through beds of pebbles and golden sand and grassy 
banks, by forests of spruce and hemlock and balsam. 
These little mountain rivulets play the same tune over 
and over again, and though 
"Men may come and men may kO) 
But they go on forever." 
Kenosh put in an appearance after a long wait, and 
showed evidence by his tattered garments and flushed face, 
which was raining beads of perspiration, that he had 
faithfully performed his mission. He said, without any 
grand flourish or needless verbiage, that it was no good 
and didn't believe there was a trout in the serpentine 
creek. Not a pool did he find nor channel of icy water 
that looked anything like a hiding place for a ruby-tinted 
babe or a more matured and handsome member of the 
family fontinalis, 
We were now fully five miles from camp, with the 
scenery of the clouds in the west indicative of an approach- 
ing storm. All the gold and silver-edged fleeces were fast 
disappearing in the east, and the gray and leaden clouds 
succeeding them were rapidly changing into dark storm 
rifts that presaged rain. The breeze had not yet caught 
us, though the half-breeds, who were pulling with all their 
might and main, momentarily expected to be battling 
with head winds and tossing seas. We soon reached a 
receding curve in the shore where towering mountains 
insured against the approaching gale, "A looming bas- 
tion fringed with fire" now burst forth low down in the 
horizon, and then the detonating thunder rolled on high 
and awed the earth. Deep went the oar blades and 
higher rolled the snowy crest at the bow. Every minute 
of time was measured at its full value, and as we looked 
back to a place which was clear an instant ago there was 
a cloud on it, hanging by the precipices as a hawk passes 
over his prey. The sudden rush of waters came in a brief 
time and just after we had reached harbor and ran for 
the shelter of our tents. The wind that came howling after 
the burdened clouds in black had consigned their treas- 
ures in pale columns along the lake and ruffled its surface 
into a wild sea, that tossed in snowy foam ana battled 
against the ragged rocks until the entire coast line was 
one vast fountain of rising spray. 
After the storm had passed away the warm violet skies 
appeared and smiled serenely, while the red light of the 
descending sun played upon the dismembered fragments 
and gave to cliff and column, wall and pinnacle, moun- 
tain and valley, a soft glow that radiated like blinking 
stars at close of sunset. 
The passing day we supposed would here close our pur- 
suit ot the iridescent beauties, for we had planned to 
leave in the morning for Jackson's Cove, just ten miles 
distant, and formerly one of the best trouting places on 
the lake. As we talked the matter over Ned was fearful 
that the party of Detroit anglers, of which we have made 
mention elsewhere, were in advance of us and had 
doubtless cleaned out the place of the finny population 
we sought. 
What was our disappointment on awakening the next 
morning to realize that a heavy southeast wind was 
blowing and the probabilities were that we would have to 
remain here another day. We, however, made the most 
of it and did our casting in the channel that was pro- 
tected by outlying islands. Though a poor day for luring 
we managed to coax eight of the symmetrical beauties of 
the trout family to our lures, and slew them without re- 
morse of conscience, Ned's red-headed devil did more 
execution than my shapely and deftly made flies, of which 
I used during the day the following: Henshall, silver- 
doctor, professor, Montreal, jungle-cock, black-spider, 
brown-hackle, scarlet-ibis and Parmachenee-belle. Ned 
would only change his dropper, holding the fiery-flamed 
"dusting brush" to the fore, of which I subjoin a, fac- 
simile. 
THB "busting brush." 
We, however, advise all professional fly makers to avoid 
duplicating the fly, as I and positive he has a caveat for 
it by this time. 
It blew hard all day, and when we retired at night 
there were no indications of it letting up. The next 
morning it was not so bad, though not favorable for our 
departure, and so we remained another day. 
About an hour after breakfast there was a decided and 
favorable change in the elements, a bright sun, serene 
sky and zephyr breezes prevailing. This tempted us to 
start the flies sailing, and on taking the boat went to the 
mainland and flshed along the shore quite a distance, and 
happily found the trout inclined to rise to our lures. We 
caught enough in an hour and then discontinued the sport. 
Thf se trophies gave us a very generous if not over abun- 
dant larder. 
During the middle of the afternoon the trotting fever 
took complete possession of us again, and we therefore 
started out to make havoc once more in the ranks of the 
