Sept. 5, 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
189 
FLY-FISHING 
On the North Shore of Lake Superior. ' 
[Concluded from page 17S.] 
"We arose early the next morning, taking our breakfast 
at 5 o'clock, as we were impatient to leave and reach 
waters where the lovely trout abided. There was no 
breeze of any consequence stirring, though what little 
came was dead ahead. 
The half-breeds gave it no attention, for they were 
eager for the advance that was returning them to their 
home. Not a golden gleam shone out, but the sky was 
painted in sullen colors that foretold threatening weather 
of the most tempestuous character. 
"All aboard," shouted Kenosh, when he had the boat 
loaded; "we go anyhow." 
It was with the oars that we went, and for about an 
hour th°i elements were quiet enough. Then came a little 
bre' ze in our teeth and harder work for the men. We 
Boon reach a towering headland, which gives us a little 
protection from the increasing wind, and where a little 
cove was to be found on its inner shore line, which in 
storm afforded a snug harbor. None of us had ever seen 
it, and, the spirit of investigation possessing us, we con- 
cluded to satisfy ourselves as to its existence, for some 
day we might desire to seek its protection. We 
therefore followed its course to the shore, and there we 
were surprised at the safety afforded by the bidden cove 
and the immensity of the headland. Its waterline ran 
up almost perpendicular, and presented the most mag- 
nificent and frowning front of sculptured defacement I 
have ever seen. Fanciful forms of all kinds confronted 
us, and you could realize almost any picture in its torn 
and chiseled and sun bleached face. We felt our faith in 
"nature's beauty strengthened, and saw more clearly 
that beauty is universal and immortal, above, beneath, 
on land and sea, mountain and plain, in heat and cold, 
light add darkness." 
As soon as we pulled away from the massive pile we 
strike a breeze that has doubly increased, changing bright 
skies to deep mourning, and giving us savage sui'ges that 
battle fiercely against the old boat. Mists begin to gather, 
the sea gulls pass with shrieking notes, and the forest 
pines in swarthy gloom bend and sadly creak. 
"Shall we return to the cove?" excitedly said Ned, when 
he felt the full force of the northwester that was blowing 
his snowy locks o'er his broad shoulders. 
"We go ahead. May be reach Point aux Mines," said 
Kenosh. 
"As you like." 
And then more vigor was applied to the oars, and the 
sea spirit in a rage rose up and buffeted us at will, deeply 
impressing us as to his absolute power to rule the sea. 
Occasionally we would seek the shelter of the little bays 
and headlands. 
The sky grows darker and more dreary every moment, 
and to add to the sum total of our adverse condition a 
heavy fog came up and shut out the gloomy heavens and 
almost the entire shorelands. Now and then we got a 
glimpse of Maimaise Point, and that fortunately gave us 
our course. The wind was howling and the waves furi- 
ously lashing ua, and as we saw a chance to make a mile 
or two with the sails, up they go, and away we speed 
o'er the rising sea with its passionate wail and its yearn- 
ing cry. 
"I wish we were out of this," said Ned. 
"Here too," and I. 
"Me too,'' murmured Kenosh. 
"Will we make the Point?" 
"Have to." 
And the word then rang out to drop sails and take the 
oars, as we had made all the distance we could under can- 
vas. In again go the oars, and it was indeed toilsome to 
make any headway whatever. After most exhausting 
work we finally dart into the little channel on a rolling 
comber, and the "sea spirit" feels that for once his power 
has been duly thwarted. 
Here we have a lovely spot on the island for camping, 
with the woods as a shelter from the cold northwester. 
Every moment we were preparing camp the wind in- 
creased in violence and the waves fought the rocky ram- 
parts with a terrible onslaught. Vaporous clouds like a 
mighty army of mountains came down upon us with a 
rapid rush, the silver-fretted sky had disappeared with its 
last sparkle, and like clouds of whirling snow the spray 
leaped up in slender columns around the resisting rocks 
of raggedness, while the sleep of the foliaged hills was 
unduly disturbed. 
"It looks as if we were to be wind-bound for a couple 
days," says Ned. 
"That about it," answers the tawny half-breed. 
"A northwester, sure." 
"Yes, and an ugly one," I remarked. 
"And no fishing either." 
"Rest assured of that." 
"We can play cribbage and yarn." 
"Yes," put in Kenosh, "you good at story business." 
"You can tell us again about that bear you killed, from 
which you ran away," gleefully said Ned, 
"By jingi never stop on that?" 
"We must bear and forbear." 
"Bear and three bear, four too much." 
Ned and I laughed heartily at his misunderstanding, 
but did not set him aright. 
For two days we remained here, but on the morning of 
the third ripples of sea lined in crimson joyfully greeted 
us, and then there was a rapid rush to leave the island for 
Grindstone Point, where we expected to have a day or 
two of infinite delight with the fontinalis family, and 
then on to the Soo with our sun-browned faces and vigor- 
ous frames like returned crusaders from the wars. 
As we delightfully sailed along the rays of the burning 
orb shot forth on every side like blazing arrows, spread- 
ing fire and lightning up peak and summit and point. 
The little coves burned like altars, and in view of this 
crimson illumination, this apotheosis of light, this match- 
less morning of gladness, we felt as if we were present at 
the magnificent nuptials of the earth and the sun. At 
this period we yield to silent rapture and reflection. You 
think this is a marvelous fairy land, a unique spectacle, 
such as no king, nor anyone else, were he 100 times richer 
than all the Rothschilds put together, could obtain at 
home, and that those who wish to see it must come here, 
must ascend the towering hills, go away from earth and 
approach heaven. . 
Arriving at Raisaines, we Saw on the piep the general- 
issimo and his band of tawny arabs. Coming close 
enough to converse, the leader sang out to us; 
"I say, old man, come ashore, I'd like to have a word 
with you," thus repeating word for word of Ned's re- 
mark to him on the trip up. 
This was monumental audacity, but it made us all 
smile, and then Ned replied: 
"We'll settle with you next summer." 
"All right, bring Polly a cracker, will you?" resounded 
back; and then the barefooted brigade was in high glee 
at the response, and their hats went up in the air as a 
token of triumph. 
"I spank him when I catch him," said Kenosh. 
"Oh, no," said Ned, "give him a cracker and let him 
go." 
"It be whip lash cracker then." 
The dusky kids were full of sportive mischief and really 
meant no harm nor incivility. Their raid on our cracker 
box, in behalf of themselves and their half -famished dogs, 
was simply a mere practical joke, in which they realized 
the largest dividends. I now smile at the amusing inci- 
dent and can plainly see the roguish eye and dauntless 
air of the juvenile Massaniello of the North Shore. 
Just before we reached Pancake Bay Kenosh advised 
me to try along the rocks, and as my rod was in readi- 
ness I went to the bow of the boat for casting. Ned was 
watching me very closely, and when he saw me raise a 
big trout and impale him he at once put his rod together 
and tried for the same game. I had a very enjoyable 
time with my struggling trout, giving him all the latitude 
he wanted. He was in no hurry, however, to surrender 
and fought like a Trojan for liberty. His valor availed 
him little, but the record he made was a noble one. At 
last the white and red and gold of an emblazoned side 
gleamed from the surface, and then drawing him to the 
boat the netter lifted him with profound regard from 
the waters. He was a full 5-pounder, and about equaled 
Ned's blue ribbon trout. 
I was fortunate enough to secure one more, while Ned 
was wondering why his red-headed and big-bodied fly 
was not coaxing out the scarlet-hued warriors from their 
palace halls. After my second trout had been landed we 
concluded to make quarters here for the night and have 
further intercourse with this interesting colony that sport 
so lavishly in the spangled robes, and is so completely the 
cynosure of all. 
Dinner was now our first thought, and so the boat was 
beached and the quarters put in good condition; but the 
black flies, which were in immense hordes, soon had us 
stamping around with a foliaged branch or two in our 
hands trying to decimate their ranks. To eradicate them 
was as much of a task as cleansing the Augean stables. 
It was simply impossible. 
Seeking the lake soon after dinner for the continuation 
of the angle, it gave us immediate relief from the tor- 
menting pests, as they never come on the water for a vic- 
tim. We succeeded in deceiving two trout, and then a 
pelting rain set in and drove us ashore and to the flies, that 
fairly flayed us alive, and as a dernier ressort a smudge or 
two was started, which gave us some relief while we held 
to the smoke. 
The next morning we realized a leaden sky with mist 
and fog. We however sought the "living arrows" of the 
stream, and on catching two concluded to return to camp 
and get ready for an embarkation to Grindstone Point. 
Although the weather was not favorable for a departure, 
we shoved off as soon as the boat was loaded, and had 
during the entire trip very disagreeable weather in con- 
sequence of dashing rains and heavy fogs, which alter- 
nated with systematic regularity. After tossing around 
on the lake for about three hours in our rubbers and 
sou'westers, we reached our desired quarters and were 
exceedingly glad of it. 
Late in the afternoon, with the sky in a dark scowl 
and a damp and heavy atmosphere, we skirted along a 
reefy shore and were fortunate enough to return to camp 
with a heart of delight and six lovely trout. Kenosh said 
if we were willing he would salt a few of them for his 
keg. As we had plenty for the table we gave our con- 
sent, but I told Ned this pickling fish was not the thing, 
and that it should never occur again in our camp if we 
could prevent it, and we were sure we could. 
We remained here another day, which greeted us with 
a southwest wind, a somber sky and a dense fog. 
As soon as breakfast was served we went in search of 
the lurking trout, and finally succeeded in enticing four 
of them from their rocky lairs. After dinner we were 
again afloat and this time we crossed the bay and caught 
four more beauties, which were more than enough for 
our immediate wants; but as Kenosh was anxious -for a 
few additional ones to fill his keg, we were sure there 
would be no waste, and as it was to be our last day's 
angle we were inclined to be lenient and so let him have 
them, but it was to be the last time that a trout was to be 
dipped in brine in our camp. Too much of pot-hunting 
in such business. Had we realized on it at first the 
subtle half-breed would have had a veto put upon it that 
would never have been set aside. 
During the afternoon I had missed a response from 
what I thought an exceedingly heavy weight. Being 
anxious to secure it, I took the boat after supper, with Jo 
as oarsman and netter, and started out for the coveted 
trout. I worked with all the skill I possessed to secure 
that particular trout, and thrashed the waters till I was 
unable to see my flies, and then started for camp some- 
what disappointed and wearied, for not a moment did I 
take for respite. My flies had fairly rained upon the 
water and not an inch of it remained untouched where I 
had made my research for the ponderous trout. 
As we were nearing camp we saw Kenosh and Ned 
sitting on a log at the water's edge, awaiting our return, 
and doubtless desirous of seeing the big trout I had so 
proudly started to entice. 
"Jo," says I, "they well have the laugh on us." 
"There's trout in the boat," he significantly responded. 
"Where?" 
"Right under the footboard." 
In a moment I had the board lifted, and there were 
the four trout we had caught during the afternoon. Tak- 
ing the largest, a i-pounder, I quickly slipped it over to 
the half-breed and then replaced the footboard. I gave 
him to understand that that was the trout we had gone 
for. He was pleased to see that I comprehended him 
when he spoke of the trout being aboard, When we 
were near the shore Ned cried out; 
•'Where's your bi^ beauty?" 
As Jo held him aloft said, "What doi you think of 
that?" 
"He'll do; I didn't think you would get any." ' 
The equivocation was a decided success and saved me 
from one of Ned's sarcastic arrows. Kenosh, I am satis- 
fied, saw through the trick, for I observed a little facial 
telegraphing between the half-breeds. 
The next morning at 6 o'clock we left for Gros Cap 
Island, and probably the Soo, if we could make it that 
day. The weather signs, however, were decidedly mixed, 
and even Kenosh with his rheumatic bones could not say 
what the day would bring forth. The breeze appeared 
to be rising, and little wavelets were breaking on the 
beach. The copper tints of the sky pass into a faint pearl 
gray. Here and there spots appear like vanishing roses, 
the woods begin to darken, and up among the mountains 
a haze is appearing and stealing down the slopes. It is 
singularly significant, and I told Ned that it would not 
be long before the pounding waves would be at the foot 
of the crags, It was fully realized before we had crossed 
Maple Bay, but it mattered not, for the wind was be- 
hind us. 
The shore was now white with foam, and the charge of 
the leaping created billows as they battled against it 
sounded more harshly than melodiously sweet. To our 
dismay the wind suddenly changed and came over the 
bow of the plunging craft with a vigor and a stifled moan, 
as if the now savage sea remembered some old grief she 
was weeping away. 
"To the oarsi" cried the half-breeds, and then for four 
miles we tossed up and down on seas that were snowy 
white. Striking Goulais Bay, we enter it as a harbor of 
refuge, and after skirting its shore for fully a mile we at 
last find a place behind a fisherman's small pier that ad- 
mitted of our landing. Here we pitched our tents, satis- 
fied that we would have to remain over night. 
The morning came with but little cessation of the blow, 
and as Kenosh declared he could cross the bay in safety, 
we were willing to go. Once more the camp is dismantled, 
and we are again ready for the homeward course. Away 
we went flying over the stormy waves that pant and 
boil and climb each dripping side of the staunch old 
boat, while the bright silver rolls from her plunging 
bow. 
Just as we were congratulating ourselves on the fine 
speed of our craft, Jo, who had been very busy turning 
over things looking after something, cries out: 
"An oar missing." 
"How that?" inquires Kenosh. 
"Must have been left ashore." 
"Then we back go " 
This was a grievous disappointment, for we were fully 
a mile on our course. There being no help for it, the boat 
was turned and headed for the little pier, withiKenosh 
fairly boiling in rage and going for his son Jo in an un- 
mistakable language that made the poor boy fairly writhe 
in agony. Ned and I kept out of the strife, for we well 
knew that with.the recovery of the oar all anger would 
disappear, and harmonious relations again resumed. 
We were soon bank, and just before the boat touched 
the gravelly bank Kenosh sprang overboard, taking the 
water as high up as his waist. 
The devil was aroused in him after searching fully fif- 
teen minutes and not finding the oar. Fortunately a 
young man, son of the head fisherman, on seeing Kenosh 
so intently looking around, asked him what he was hunt- 
ing. 
"An oar," he answered with frowning furrows and lips 
tightly clenching. 
"There is one in that boat," came the response from the 
questioner. 
"That mine," said Kenosh, as his eye fell upon it. 
He soon had the oar in hand, and as he passed some 
fishermen, who were drying their gill nets on a big reel, 
he fairly made the place lurid with his emphatic de- 
nouncement of the thief that had stolen or misplaced his 
oar. They paid little heed to him, for they well knew 
that when a half-breed had his blood up it was dan- 
gerous to triQ.°i with him. Kenosh was still in deep anger 
when he returned with the missing oar, and when Jo 
made a blunder in placing the sprit he cried out: "I break 
your d — m neck you do that again." 
Ned and I — at the risk of having his fury spent on us — 
put in a good word for Jo, championing his case so strong 
that tbe fiary half-breed simmered down considerably. 
When we had gone about two miles we felt the full 
force of the gale. Wild, sparkling crests broke around us, 
with the boat bounding forward like a greyhound from 
the slip when after flying prey. Up and down we go, 
from the base of the Arave to the billow's crown amidst 
flashing and feathery foam, with the masts creaking and 
shaking like quivering reeds. An anxious look was on 
every face, with the strong arm of the helmsman holding 
up the flying craft on the big waves that came rushing 
upon us with a dull roar, as if they wished to utter to us 
some deep mystery. Suddenly there was a crash over- 
head, and on looking up the mainsail was revealed as 
rent from side to side, and it looked as if it would soon go 
into fluttering ribbons if this fierce sailing was kept up 
much longer. 
"Ease her up," cried Ned a little excitedly. 
"Me hold her where she is," responded the still mad- 
dened half-breed. 
"All right, hold her for the port of perdition, if you 
Uke." 
"We soon out of it." 
"It don't matter whether we are soon out of it or not," 
came back from Ned in no pleasant tone. 
Things were evidently getting exceedingly lurid aboard, 
though Jo and I remained serene, content to let the twain, 
settle the sailing business or swamp the boat if they so 
desired. 
As Kenosh said, we were soon out of it, for the tower- 
ing hills in our front eased off the stiff breeze consider- 
ably, and then there was some anxiety as to whether we 
would make the pomt we had all along been striving to 
reach. The boat was still kept well to the wind, and soon 
we had the satisfaction of rounding the bay into the lake 
and then the wind dropped dead upon us, the gray clouds 
disappeared, the sun shone out in dazzling grandeur, 
giving us a most beautiful world, with the chasm of sky 
in heaven's profoundest azure, where the everlasting 
stars abide. 
We take up the oars and pursue our way along a shore 
that is fairly typical of this great lake, and which I have 
so often described in this letter. It was only four miles 
to Gros Gap, our destination, but the deliciousness of the 
