Sept. 9, 1905.] 
r- FOREST AND STREAM. 
S B 
forks, cheese and dried fruits, tubs and buckets sauer- 
kraut and sausages — anything that’s handy. I’m a com- 
mercial traveler.” 
“Du tell, du tell,” said Bunce, and turning sharply to 
Joe he briskly asked : “Mister, won’t you sell me a $2 
tombstone? Want to set it up over Hulda, my old cow, 
that died last .spring.” 
“I’ll order it,” replied Joe, and reaching out his hand 
to Bunce, he added : “Shake !” 
They shook hands. Joe was beat at his own game, and 
we didn’t let him forget it during the rest of the trip. A 
mild reference to tombstones would cause a twitch of pain 
to cross his face. 
Bunco’s cabin was spacious, porch in front, set of rooms, 
a middle and side porch and several rooms in the rear, 
all having the appearance of having been hitched on to 
the front from time to time as necessity required. The 
logs were well chinked, the doors hung on wooden hinges, 
the windows small, and the front and sides of the cabin 
roughly weatherboarded. The roof was covered with 
chestnut boards, the long rafters spanning the half-story 
above, and without ceiling to dull the sound of the rain 
pattering on the roof. 
Bunco’s table supply was ample; pork and beans, green 
corn, potatoes, corn bread, coffee and milk, butter and a 
molasses stand well filled with sorghum. To' this was 
added a plentiful supply of fried fish of the day’s catch. 
When bed time came we were consigned to the front 
room with its two big beds and a pallet on the floor for 
the guides. The day had been unusually warm and the 
( night was sultry for this mountain region. As we pre- 
I pared to turn in it was found we were expected tO' repose 
I on great big feather beds, a foot thick, soft and yielding, 
I the best in the house. We sank in them with a restful 
i! feeling, but the warmth soon became suggestive, then 
I oppressive. 
Another discovery was made. The beds had been en- 
gaged before our arrival. The occupants were bugs of 
enormous size and marked activity, 
i “Oh, Lordy,” said Joe, “have you fellows noticed any- 
i thing?” We had. We were sure of it. 
Hall bounced out on the floor. Joe and I quickly fol- 
: lowed, and taking the top quilts we made a spread on the 
floor, where we spent the rest of the night. Loss of sleep 
the night before soon made us oblivious of the owl hoots 
outside and of the warm hospitality of our host. 
After an early breakfast next morning we hastily gath- 
ered our traps and made ready to depart. Our bill was 
' paid and the amount was accepted with thanks and a 
, hearty invitation to “Come again. Glad to see you, latch- 
1 string always hangs outside.” 
“Sure, sure,” replied Joe. “I’ll never forget you. If I 
get in twenty miles of here nothing can hold me back. 
Never had a livelier time in my life. Come and see me. 
Sell you a bunch of cattle,” and seizing Bunce’s hand he 
gave it a hearty shake. Both laughed and the laugh was 
catching. 
We made much better speed going down the mountain 
than we had coming up the evening before, and were soon 
at the water’s edge. Our boats were found all right, and 
we were soon heading up stream.. The minnows, a lively 
^ set of the black sucker variety, had been submerged in 
running water the night before and were in good shape. 
They were originally caught in one of the mountain 
; creeks with a minnow seine and had kept well. 
A short distance above the mouth of Laurel River we 
entered the “Gulf” — a broad, deep basin of the Cumber- 
land, reported to contain fish of fabulous proportions. It 
lay in the shadows of the adjacent cliffs, and the great 
forest trees along the banks. But we failed to lay hold 
on any of these fabulous monsters, and passed between 
j the huge rocks guarding the entrances without so much 
j as the sight of a fin. 
j But in the next reach above, from under the cavernous 
shadows of some overhanging rocks I caught a small- 
mouth black bass of about i pound weight, and of inky 
I blackness in color. Goodwin, the guide, called it a “nig- 
i ger fish.” Outside its color there was nothing to denote 
j a difference from the ordinary black bass. I presume the 
1 locality of its habitat — underneath the rocks in the dark- 
j ness and shadows — had an effect, and probably only 
I emerging at night to seek its food, it had become assimi- 
j lated to its surroundings, somewhat as the eyeless fish of 
I Mammoth Cave. 
I In one of the reaches higher up, where the swift cur- 
j rent set in near the shore, I had the pleasure of “wiping 
I the eyes” of my two friends. They had passed over the 
; water ahead of me without a strike, but as my boat swung 
1 into the current the float of my set rod went under and 
' the line began paying out rapidly. Laying down the hand 
f rod I took up the other. There was no halt, no stop to 
( swallow the bait, and as the line tightened I struck the 
i mornent his weight was felt. Out of the water he went, 
I making the bubbles form and float away down stream 
fj in varying size. Again and again he broke from the water 
I as the line checked his efforts to go down stream over the 
3 rapids. Then he varied his tactics by first running in 
t shore and then darting under the boat. Goodwin turned 
1 the boat quickly and _ at the same time, standing up, 1 
I passed the rod over his head, so as not to entangle with 
‘the rod and line in the stern. As he cleared the boat and 
started toward mid-stream the reel click of the other rod 
: caught my ear. The cork was under and the line moving 
! out. Here was trouble, sure enough. Goodwin could not 
i help me, for in the swift current his hands were full to 
j keep the boat in position. 
I Quickly putting over the drag I laid the hand rod down 
1 on the cross-board, picked up the other rod, struck and 
fastened the fish, set the drag, replaced the rod, with reel 
I handle up. and resumed the fight with the bigger one, as 
i.the first strike proved luckily to be. I cautioned Goodwin 
:to pull slowly up stream, so as to keep the second fish 
j clear. Releasing the drag, I resumed the fight with his 
■| royalty No. i. and though he set the usual tricks in the 
' open, water, soon had him in short harness. After a few 
:! vain _ struggles he came to the surface, and floated sub- 
jmissiyely as I drew him to the boat — a good 3-pound 
i| small-mouth, trim and compact. 
i Taking up the other rod I found considerable line out, 
pleading down stream, but this was soon recovered, and 
; with it a bass of 24 pound, that was already tuckered out. 
My two friends had halted their boat a short distance . 
above to watch the fight. They expressed surprise that 1 
; should pick up two fish right in the track they had passed 
jover, I suggested that as I had stirred the fish up they 
should row back over the same ground and might do bet- 
ter. Sure enough, they circled back and caught several. 
From the Gulf basin to the falls, the Cumberland nar- 
rows its channel very perceptibly, so that near the mouth 
of Bear Camp Creek it is difficult to get a rowboat over 
the riffles in low water. In this rougher part of the river 
we caught several salmon, running from 4 to 6 pounds. 
We were headed this day for the Bee Spring, several 
miles above the mouth of Laurel River, and reached the 
place about noon. Stepping ashore we looked about for 
the waters so noted for their medicinal properties. An 
obscure path led up the wooded slope, following which we 
came face to face against an abrupt wall of rock over 
fifty feet in height. In the face of this rock, about three 
feet from the ground, was a circular hole, an inch in 
diameter, and from this opening, filling its capacity, 
gushed a stream of cold chalybeate water, possessing great 
virtue in restoring the wasted energies of the system. 
There was no seam in the rock wall to indicate a break, 
but the hole seemed “made on purpose.” The ground was 
red with the iron oxide precipitated by the water. The 
latter was cold and refreshing, with a slightly acrid taste. 
It was seemingly a great waste of medicine out here in 
the wilderness. 
The afternoon was spent in descending the river, fish- 
ing as we went with varying success. By sunset we 
reached the mouth of Laurel River, and the question of 
lodging for the night came up. It would probably be dark 
before we could reach the Salt Shoals, with its dangerous 
channel, if we descended the river. The question was at 
us, whether we should climb the mountain and sleep with 
Bunce and his hot beds and nimble-footed bugs, or risk 
shipwreck in the Shoals with the crying child and crow- 
ing rooster to greet us if we escaped. 
Joe gallantly voted for Bunce, while Hall said he would 
rather repose in a watery grave than be eaten alive by 
bedbugs. I agreed with Hall, and taking our lines and 
fish into the boat the oarsmen bent to their work with a 
will, so that by good luck we reached and passed the 
Shoals in safety during twilight, and that night the child 
and rooster were obligingly quiet, giving us a sleep that 
was sweet, sound and refreshing. 
Next day, our minnow supply being exhausted, we 
made straight for the Springs. The night of our arrival 
Joe held an auction, with himself as auctioneer and dis- 
posed of_ his entire lot of fishing tackle, including his 
richly painted “bobs” and rubber boots, vowing his cup 
of angling joy was full, and he had only one other object 
in life, and that was to send Bunce his $2 tombstone. 
Kentucky. QlD Sam. 
Godbout River Salmon Scores. 
Editor Forest cmd Stream: 
Such close tab has not been kept on the angling produc 
of any other river in the world. This it is safe tO' say 
For a penod of nearly half a century, or since 1859, ever] 
salmon lifted out of that prolific Canadian stream ha; 
been scrupulously noted, and the record systematical!] 
printed. This was done by Allan Gilmour, of Ottawa 
the owner of the river, while he lived, and since then ha; 
been continued by John Manuel, his nephew, also o: 
Ottawa. Mr. Gilmour died in 1898, at the age of eighty 
Mr. Manuel is now in his seventy-sixth year, but he 
never misses a season. Every June he runs down the St 
Lawrence River several hundred miles in his steam yacht 
the Cruiser, with a tender full of good things, and twe 
or more friends, sometimes the full complement of five 
and remains_ till near the close of the season, when he 
leaves his princely domain of 5,000 acres and its luxurious 
camp and appurtenances to his river guardian, Napoleon 
Comean, who often gleans out of the teeming water at 
the fag-end of the annual run more salmon than all of his 
predecessors put together. The scores show this. The 
limits of the season vary quite a little, but the extremes 
are from June 7 to July 28, as the printed records show. 
This Napoleon Comean is a wonderful rodster, full of 
■ strategy, science, energy and endurance. He can fish all 
day and not tire. _ His maximum record in 1874 of 360 
salmon and five grilse in eighteen 'days, or twenty salmon 
a day for each day during the whole time, is hardly cred- 
ible to the craft who know what hardship and endur- 
ance IS involved, taxing both brain and muscles. Napo- 
leon IS growing old and grizzly now, but he is still a very 
active, lusty man, and what he does not know about the 
natural history of the Godbout River fish is not worth 
mentioning. 
Allan Gilmour’s largest scores were 207 salmon in the 
season of 1866 (June 27 to July 21), 165 in 1867, 113 fish 
in 1808, and 139 in 1869. The heaviest fish caught during 
the period e.xtending from 1859 to 1888 weighed 32 
pounds. Three were caught of 30 pounds, six of 29 and 
quite a number of 28 pounds. The total number taken 
over 20 pounds each was 343. The year 1879 -was notable 
tor Its large fish. There were a dozen that exceeded 23 
pounds, and the total average was 144 pounds. The year 
1881 was phenomenal. The season was short and the fish 
heavy beyond precedent. In nine days, from June 14 to 
23’ thirty-two salmon were taken in all, and these aver- 
aged 20 pounds apiece, or 8 pounds above normal. 
On June 22, 1880, John Manuel caught a notable string 
of SIX salrnon, only one of which went below the 20- 
pound mark; the highest reading 27 pounds and the 
aggregate po. Again, on June 6, 1881, he made another 
string of six fish whose aggregate reached 138, with the 
heaviest fish weighing 29 pounds, thus beating the record 
up to then. Mr. Allan Gilmour was high hook, having 
killed 1,413 salmon besides those taken during the years 
killed 536 salmon in 
1864-8. John Manuel, who succeeded his uncle, Allan 
1 rnour. made Ins maiden score of forty salmon in 1876. 
Next year he added 14440 that string, next year 120, and 
subsequently increased It to 1,423, making interim scores 
o 190, T27, 134 and 133, bid still leaving the old hero 
or the river champion at 207. 
A summary of these unparalleled tabulated scores— the 
ne phis ultia in all the world’s-. history of salmon fishing 
•shows an aggregate of 6,516 salmon caught with artificial 
flies besides 109 grilse, ^e total weight of which was 
o 5 ' 29 / pounds, -or more than forty-two tons There are 
.seventeen pools in the river from tidewater to the Upper 
’ ‘"n where there is an impas.sable high 
falls, [fins formation is characteristic of most of the 
rivers on the north shore of the St, Lawrence, and defi- 
nitely ends the journey of anadromous fish, whether they" 
be salmon or sea trout.] 
The tab shows that fully one-third of all the fish taken 
were from this pool farthest up stream, and as the dis- 
tance is not much more than two miles, it is evident that 
the fish, finding their journey at an end, felt more at leis- 
ure to investigate the little tufts of tinsel and feathers 
which they found playing about the surface of the wateir 
than when they were intent on reaching their spawning 
ground. 
Very few grilse were tabulated, perhaps not more thare 
twenty-three to as many as five rods during any OMS sea- 
son’s fishing. In the earlier years, up to 1876, grilse were 
not counted if taken. They were thrown out as a sort 
supernumerary, or at least as an immature fish, lacking: 
substance, flavor and weight. They were off color as' 
well, and of little more account than the smolts which' 
sometimes got hold of a line. River men and anglers 
were not looking for precocious fish in those days, which 
carried ova before their time, and if such precocity was 
even noticed no fishculturist ever banked very high on 
establishing a prolific breed of adolescents, or upon Sekig 
able to anticipate the function of maturity by impo.sin'g 
upon 3-pound grilse the onus of full-grown salmon. 
A further analysis of this most complete and interesf- 
ing statement shows a remarkably low average weight off 
fish of about 9 pounds for the first five years, with a pro- 
gressive increase to g%, 9J^, 10.93, 11,23, 11.30, 13.23, 
14.27 up to the climax of 20 in i^i. This latter figure 
has not been sustained, however, dropping back to about 
13 pounds for the date given, and finally to a normal of 
12 pounds, as the later tables show, being an absolute 
net gain of about 4 pounds in forty-six years. This re- 
sult indicates betterment. It does not look like degen- 
eracy or retrogression, or diminished numbers, whatever 
disaster may be predicated upon the failure of an occa- 
sional off year. Indeed, we find upon traversing the sub- 
sequent river records for the years 1889 to 1904 inclusive, 
that 4,967 captured fish have been added to the score, and 
that the maximum weight has been' advanced from 32 to 
39 pounds. This fish was caught on June 20, 1904. One 
fish was caught which weighed 33 pounds, one of 32, one 
of 31, four of 30, five of 29, six of 28, and one of 27 
pounds. The aggregate weight for the fifteen years was' 
54,191 pounds, or twenty-six tons. Added to the product 
of torty-two tons for the previous thirty years, we have 
a grand total of about sixty-nine tons of salmon. A com- 
parison of the figures show a catch of 3,613 fish per an- 
num for the last fifteen years as against an annual catch 
of 2,975 for the previous twenty-nine years, or a gain 
approximating 19 per cent. This should be encouraging 
to those who deprecate the alleged ineflicacy of artificial 
propagation. 
In making this indsive sketch of a remarkable river, 
one who has been intimate with its leading spirit for 
many years cannot but note with sadness the gradual 
lapse of that lusty wielder of the two-handed rod, who 
ran up marvellous scores when he was in the prime of 
life, but hardly made his mark at the finish. Year after 
year for four years he made the long voyage down the Stt 
I.awrence to his favorite resort, but he could not fish'.. 
His strength failed him. He came away empty, but at 
the very last, with that true heroism of his Scotch kins- 
man who cried “Lay on, McDuff !” he ran up a noble 
score of thirteen fish. The following year, 1886, he tried 
and failed. In 1887 he caught two. The next year he 
laid down his red and came no more to the Godbout. 
Since Mr. Gilmour died Mr. Manuel has distanced him 
by a record score of 234 salmon, and another remarkable 
score of 216. Altogether he has caught, since 1889, 1,929 
salmon and 124 grilse, making a total catch of 2,091 fish. 
Charles Hallock. 
Some Western Water Notes, 
Chicago, 111. — Editor Forest and Stream: Mr. Nor- 
man Fletcher, of Louisville, Ky., an angler who does a 
great deal of trout fishing in different Michigan streams, 
is quoted at some length in a newspaper published at 
t raverse City Mich., his remarks bearing upon the varie- 
ties of trout to be found in the Boardman River of that 
btate. In a personal letter, which is at hand, Mr. Fletcher 
takp up the same question in the following form : 
“After some investigation of the matter I have come to 
the conclusion that there are five different kinds of trout 
m the Boardman River, which discharges into Grand 
I rayerse Bay at this place. They are the speckled trout, 
rainbow, steel-head. Loch Leven and the so-called German 
brown trout. Just why they should be called German 
brown I do not know, as they are the trout of the streams 
and rivers of England, and are known to scientists as the 
t^almo fano. I think it a mistake to put so many different 
kinds of trout in one stream. In the early days the 
Boardman River was a grayling stream. This fish was 
then locally called a ‘gaper' or ‘gapers.’ Old inhabitants 
say that forty or fifty years ago the gapers were very 
abundant in the spring of the year. The speckled trout 
came into the Boardman and the grayling disappeared. 
Alter that came the rainbows and they seem to be mono- 
polizing the stream. I am satisfied that when rainbow 
trout are introduced in streams containing speckled trout 
the last named gradually decrease in numbers, why I do 
not know. I have examined the stomachs of many rain- 
bows, and have rarely found a minnow or trout in them 
The speckled trout spawn in the fall and the rainbows 
m the spring. Is it probable that the rainbows eat the 
spawn of the .speckled trout when it is being deposited 
or do they eat the very young speckled trout soon after 
they are hatched?” 
Mainers Largest Togwe. 
Bangor, Me., Aug. 29.— The largest togue or lake trout 
that I have any knowledge of, as taken during the last 
five year^ is the Saindon togue, caught this last spring 
in Cold Stream Pond, Enfield. vs 
I saw the fish only after it was dressed and shipped to 
this city but It was a whopper, and was alleged to weigh 
31 pounds when taken out of the water, and 2414' pounds 
after having the eiHrails removed. It was homely enough 
to have weighed almost any weight. ® 
It was caugEt in early June by C.' FT. Saindon of Ban- 
gor, keeper of a restaurant on Exchange street ’ just be- 
low rny office, where it was on exhibition for a day befor“ 
being seryeij up to the woodsmen frequenting ihe hotel 
— H, W) Rowe. 
